


Going Home

by Angelworks



Series: The Adventures of an Adopted Spider [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cameos by Matt Murdock and Logan, Camping, Dad!Wade, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Deadpool being Deadpool, Death, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Gun Violence, Hydra Peter Parker, Like camping in the woods, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Wade Wilson, Puberty, Road Trips, Violence, dark!Peter, national parks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 13:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 66
Words: 104,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelworks/pseuds/Angelworks
Summary: Wade pulls a 14 year old Peter out of a Hydra nest in Alabama, and decides to keep him. What follows is an epic summer road trip to New York City with occasional gun fights. Expect many emotions and enough fluff for a 3 day Build A Bear convention as Wade discovers just what it means to have a son, and Peter gets something he's never had before- a Dad who loves him.This is the "Deadpool adopts Spider-Man" fic that no one asked for but deep down in their souls needed.





	1. Hydra Base I

Peter slouched quietly on the exam table, naked except for pair of drawstring sweat pants that were a couple of sizes to big for him, and a leather collar that was ever so slightly to tight around his neck. He gazed vaguely at the bare concrete wall opposite him, while his fingers lightly traced the subtle raised pattern of circuitry of the collar. When he swallowed the collar squeezed against his neck, causing a general ache. He pressed on it, seeking relief. Trying to shift it into a better position.

Across the room, a man with a graying crew cut and the world’s most offensive pedo moustache hummed disapprovingly at him from where he sat bolt upright in a padded chair.

Peter’s hand dropped instantly to his lap. Then he shifted uneasily, and in the tense silence the crinkle of the thin paper on the exam table sounded obscenely loud to Peter’s ears. To keep his hands from wandering again, Peter clasped them firmly in front of him.

The steady hum of the fluorescent lights above him ever so slowly grated on his nerves in the otherwise stupidly silent room. 

Stupid paper. Why is there even paper on a doctor’s exam table anyway?

(I believe it’s to keep the table clean.) a smooth alto voice said in his head.

“Didn’t ask you," Peter muttered darkly under his breath.

The man shifted in his chair, staring at Peter. Peter took a breath and tried to will himself to shut up. To stay still. But it was useless. Approximately 2 seconds later his legs began to idly swing, as if of their own accord. He stared at them. His legs swung harder.

_Stupid stupid stupid. Can’t even stay still. Like a useless child._

The thought triggered a bundle of rage inside him that lately always seemed to be just... there, lurking under the surface of his mind, and he felt his face twist into a snarl-

“Stop that," the man said sharply, and removed his hand from his jacket pocket, revealing a slim gray remote with a single black button on it.

Peter froze, and tried to school his face into a blank one, his legs stilling instantly while his heart raced.

The man stared intently at him, eyes narrowing in threat, and his finger lightly traced the button.

Peter didn’t need the tingle that raced up his spine to know the danger that remote held. He switched from blank to cowering, his shoulders drawing up, his head lowering, as he cringed away from the man.

“I’m sorry," he whispered, while he tried to make himself as small and non threatening as possible.

The man pointedly stared him down for another moment or two before he grunted, and put his hand, and the remote, back in his pocket.

The tingle in his spine died down a bit, but did not go away completely. Peter kept his submissive posture, gaze now firmly on the floor, but with half an eye kept on that hand in that pocket.

(Control yourself.) the voice in Peter’s head said warningly. 

Peter’s mouth struggled to not to set in in a line of frustration, and his toes curled with the effort of not replying out loud to that annoyingly familiar voice. To keep still.

The door to the room slammed open, and both Peter and the man jumped a bit in their seats as another man in a lab coat holding a manila folder stuffed full of papers wandered in.

“Hail Hydra,” the man with the crew cut said, standing up and giving that stupid salute.

“Hm? Oh yes. Hail Hydra," the doctor replied, but his salute was more absent than full of conviction like Crew Cut.

“What did the tests say?” Crew Cut asked.

The doctor sighed. “You were right, Handler. Omega 13 has started puberty. His testosterone levels are already at adult levels, and even then they’re at the high end of the range. It’s well beyond where it should be at for his age. And it will probably go even higher before it’s over with. This would explain the rages."

Peter kept still. Puberty? Didn’t that happen when you were like... older? A sudden thought made him pause. Wait... just how old was he again? It was so hard to keep track of time when you spent most of your time in an underground bunker..

(I estimate you to be 14 years old. Most human males typically start puberty at the age of 12.)

Peter seethed, and tried to think _“Shut Up Kara,"_ pointedly at the voice.

“It’s not unexpected," the doctor continued. “He is around that age."

“How long will it last?”

“Typical puberty lasts years. But since this is Omega 13 we’re talking about..." the doctor shrugged. “We have no idea. The spike could be just for a month or two to jumpstart his body changes or it could be years. Or this could be his new normal."

Crew Cut frowned. “This is not acceptable! I need him controllable! He killed two men from his own unit for no reason!“

Peter felt a flush of shame about that. He’d been on edge after killing all of those people on his last mission, and when his “squad mates” called him “shawty” and asked him if he’d ever considered pigtails for his hair... he’d just flipped his shit. He’d killed two of them before Crew Cut had pushed the button. 

He stared at his hands. They seemed clean now, but if you looked, you could still see blood under his nails... God would he ever be rid of it?

(You did what was required.)

Peter frowned. He’d killed because he had ORDERS. And then he’d done it again because he’d lost his stupid temper. Neither of these were acceptable. Ugh. He felt sick.

(You should worry about what they will do next.)

She was right. What would they do now? They already had the collar on him...

“There must be something we can do- has any progress been made in accessing the Control Unit?” Crew Cut continued.

The doctor shook his head. “It was an alien device to start with. We thought that installing it in his brain would make it functional, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything-”

 _That you know of,_ Peter thought darkly. Not that he’d ever tell them that Kara was talking to him now. Showing him things. They’d just figure out a way to use her against him. 

“And it would cause to much damage to remove it. It’s just more practical to leave it in place for now,” the doctor finished. 

“What else can we do?”

“I’ve talked to several of my colleges and we think the best thing to do would be to block the testosterone. It’s causing the instability. So if we remove it..."

“What are you thinking? Castration?”

Peter stopped breathing. He’d never once stepped foot in a school, but even he knew what that meant.

“No."

Peter started breathing again.

“If we did that we wouldn’t be able to breed him later," the doctor said matter of factly.

Peter stopped breathing again. His heart froze for good measure. Breed? Like.... make babies? The thought distressed him. He’d never even considered something like that. Would... would they do it in a lab? Or... would they make him.... Would they.... His mind skittered around the very idea. He just could not imagine himself with a woman. And since this was Hydra, he doubted the woman would be... willing. It was weird, and icky and turned his stomach.

(Your heart rate has become erratic. Would you like to see some pictures of some puppies?)

“Shut up!” Peter whisper hissed, and shook his head, as if he could dislodge the voice. The hiss turned into a yelp as the collar briefly shocked him.

“Quiet!” Crew Cut snapped.

Peter cringed.

“Is the muttering new?” the doctor asked, suddenly alert.

Crew Cut sighed. “It started about 6 months ago, maybe? Nothing unusual. Most of the subjects talked to themselves from time to time. But it’s been getting worse lately."

The doctor frowned, chewing on his lower lip in thought. “Mental illness can be triggered by puberty... We should schedule a brain scan to be safe. Regardless, getting his hormones under control should make him more stable."

“What do we do then?”

“We’ll put a rod in his arm that blocks testosterone. That’ll stop the puberty. Then we’ll throw in a little estrogen to make him more docile.**”

“Estrogen? Isn’t that female hormones?” Crew Cut wrinkled his nose in distaste.

The doctor shrugged. “He may grow small breasts over time, but his fertility will not be affected long term and, more importantly, the rages will stop," the doctor said, almost flippantly.

Peter thought he was going to have a heart attack. Stopping his puberty? That... that was bad, right? And boobs? What... no... he didn't want that. Didn’t want that!

“How soon do we start?”

The doctor consulted his notes, completely ignoring the mental meltdown that was happening to the boy on the exam table next to him. “We don’t have what we need on hand right now. Usually we’re upping testosterone, not blocking it... I’d say next week, Wednesday at the earliest. We can give him some Lithium for now as a mood stabilizer until the necessary equipment comes in."

“How long will he be out of commission?”

“Well... it’ll take a few weeks for the rod to take effect, plus we’ll have to play with the dosage levels..." the doctor hummed. “He should be ready for missions in a month or two. Three at most.”

Peter started to feel himself shake. They were going to mutilate him. They were going to.... Going to...

(Warning. Your adrenal levels are extremely high.)

He didn’t even feel himself move. One moment he was on the table, the next he was on the floor, sitting on top of the doctor’s chest - his hands around the doctor’s neck. They didn’t even come close to reaching all the way around. A sickening crack followed, and the doctor became still. 

In the background someone was shouting. Peter turned, and saw in slow motion as Crew Cut fumbled in his coat to pull out the remote. Peter tried to react. Tried to switch targets. But Crew Cut was faster, and pressed the button. Hard.

Peter shrieked and fell to the floor as electric current from the collar flowed through him. For a moment, Peter knew only pain. And then he knew nothing as the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** I know that this is not how it works. Not how ANY of that works. (insert meme here) But this is Hydra here. When have they ever been right about ANYTHING? So don’t @ me, yeah? I also want ya’ll to know that I know the struggle is real for any and all Trans people out there. You keep doing you! Hydra just sucks major balls, yeah?


	2. Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [White]
> 
> {Yellow}

Deadpool laid face up on the bed. He’d flung himself dramatically there a while ago, and sprawled listlessly on the comforter. It was scratchy and awful, as to be expected at a Dirt Cheap Motel ™. A foot wiggled aimlessly.

[Come on! Do something! This is boooorrrinnng.]

Deadpool ignored the voice.

[WWWAAADDEEE]

{Oh god. Do something! He’s gonna start doing that thing again!}

Deadpool sighed, and pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Come on guys! It’s not even CLOSE to time to go yet!”

[Why can’t we go now? It’s so boring here!]

{Shut up White! All you ever do is complain!}

[I would shut up if it wasn’t so BORING!]

Wade sighed and felt around blindly on the bed before he found the remote for the TV. 

[Put something good on!]

“I will! I will! Hold on already! Jesus," Wade grumbled.

He flipped through the channels.

Nothing. Nada. Infomercial he’d already seen before.... And then he ran out of channels.

[This is bullshit!]

{Wade!}

“I know, I know!” Wade groaned. And went to the pay per view options to turn on some porn. He wasn’t even into it honestly. Some bimbo with giant boobs bouncing on a dick. But it kept the boxes happy and quiet. Or at least, they kept their commentary to plot inconsistencies instead of listing everything that was wrong with him.

He eyed his gun bag. Would it be to early to.... No. He couldn’t shoot himself. He was going on a mission later. And getting over being dead would just give him a headache that would spoil the fun of the whole mission.

So he watched the TV. And tried his best to not think about what he was even doing with his life right now.


	3. Hydra Base II

Peter slowly woke up. He could feel drool on his cheek. His body was slumped into an awkward position, face embedded into the mattress, ass in the air, knees nearly falling off the side of the bunk. Clearly they’d just tossed him onto the bed and had left him however he had landed. He grunted softly and shifted, trying to get some weight off his face.

For some reason moving was hard. Thinking was even harder. What had happened?

(They gave you something.) Kara answered. (It should be out of your system in an hour or so.)

Peter blinked, and drooled into the mattress some more.

“Gagh,” he said, and tried to figure out what had died in his mouth recently.

Time passed. After a small eternity he managed to move himself so that he was actually laying down and not just making his face one with the mattress. He blinked indignantly at the brightness of the fluorescent lights that hummed overhead.

(You should just wait it out.)

So that’s what Peter did. He just laid there and drifted in and out. 

Eventually a voice pulled him back to reality.

“Oh my god, Omega. What did they put you on now?”

“Dnno..." Peter slurred. The fog was slowly lifting, but talking was still a struggle.

“Well, whatever it is must be the shit. You’re about to drown over there in a puddle of drool."

Peter blinked. Why were the tingles in his neck going off? Frowned. Turned his head to look.

A tall lanky teenager with perfect blonde hair and blue eyes stood beside his bunk with his hands on his hips.

“Delta," Peter said softly as a pit opened in his belly and all his organs fell into it.

“About time!” the foam dipped as the older teenager sat on the bunk next to Peter. Peter tried to scoot as far into the wall as he could, but his limbs were still not quite working right.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why was Delta in his room?

Delta ran a hand over Peter’s braided hair.

“New design? You’re so talented Omega. So good with your hands. I’ve always thought it was to bad you’re too stupid to be able to do anything really useful with them," Delta said, and the hand trailed down to brush his neck.

Peter closed his eyes and tried not to shake. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep? No... he’d already talked to him. Fuck. Wake up wake up wake up!

(Emergency flush activated. 3 minutes until normal function resumes.)

Peter swallowed. Something in his body twisted. It felt... weird. Emergency flush? What was Kara babbling about?

“What?” he said intelligently.

Delta laughed. “There’s that famous Omega wit. I’ve missed that," Delta said. His hands moved down to give Peter’s ass a squeeze.

“Stop," Peter slurred.

“Hmm?” Delta asked.

“Don’t!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you silly," Delta laughed. “In fact I’ve been assigned to babysit you. It’ll just be like old times!” Delta said and patted Peter’s ass fondly.

Peter growled.

“Don’t be like that," Delta pouted. “I know you’re even more pissy than usual, but you have to remember it’s your own incompetence that makes me be here. You’re supposed to kill the OTHER GUYS, not the guys on your own squad," Delta said, like someone trying to explain something obvious to a particularly dense toddler.

“Asshole," Peter murmored. Oh god. He’d thought the days of dealing with Delta were over. And now there wasn’t even Theta or Beta to hide behind either anymore since they’d both suicided... Great. Maybe now if he broke Delta’s hand and arms he’d get the hint to keep his stupid fingers to himself. Or would he get into even more trouble?

Delta laughed.

Peter flexed his limbs, testing them.

(Flush complete. Normal operations resumed.)

Peter blinked. And now he needed to pee. And he was thirsty. Wonderful. 

Peter got up. “Move. Need to pee.." he grumbled.

“Over it already? I wish I had your metabolism. So lucky!”

Peter grunted, stumbled over to the open toilet built into the wall, prison style, and peed. He could feel Delta’s eyes on his ass and felt his skin crawl.

“Have you no shame?” Peter snapped as he put himself away.

“Nope," Delta sniggered.

Peter turned and snarled at Delta as the tingles in his back increased. “You-”

Delta slammed him up against a wall in an instant, his hand on Peter’s throat.

“You will MIND me, Omega. Or I will be the one to punish you- and I know you don’t want that," Delta’s growled. “I can repeat that in even smaller words if you need me to."

“Get. Off. Me." Peter snarled. 

A deafening siren went off somewhere down the hallway. Both Peter and Delta froze.

“What-” Peter said, looking at the doorway, then jumped when his tingles screamed at him. But there was nowhere to go- Delta had him caged against the wall. Peter squirmed and was rewarded for his efforts with a hard and very bony knee to his balls. 

“I told you to mind me," Delta said warningly as Peter gasped and collapsed, clutching himself. “I won’t tolerate that tone, Omega."

Peter glared at Delta from the floor. “Fu-”

The door to the tiny bunk room slammed open and Crew Cut barged inside. 

“We’ve got an intruder- you’re up Delta. Omega go with him. He’s in Sector 7," Crew Cut barked at them.

“You heard the man. Let’s go,” Delta said and headed through the open door. Peter struggled to his feet, and limped after him, glaring daggers into his back the whole way.


	4. Hydra Base III

“Yoohoo! Anyone home?” Deadpool called out, as he skipped down the halls.

“Olly Olly oxen free?” he offered as he rounded a corner, a machine gun in either hand.

No one answered except for a constant ringing siren.

[Pansies.] White hissed. [How are we going to get to a million points NOW if there’s no one to _shoot_?]

{I told you we should have stayed at home and eaten that ice cream.} Yellow sighed. {We could be watching The Great British Bake Off right now instead of listening to this stupid siren.}

Deadpool didn’t slow down. “Now, now. We have a job to do, remember? Daddy’s gotta make some cash cash money tonight!” he sang.

[Job? What job? I thought we were just bored.]

{Was that supposed to be from a song? Because that was just awful. Also pretty sure that’s not how it goes. Like at all.}

Deadpool snorted, and kicked down a door. “Don’t hate a hater!”

{That is so NOT how that goes either!}

[He’s doing it on purpose Yellow.]

{Ass.}

“OOohh... this looks interesting!” Deadpool cooed as he entered the room. It was a large box of a room with high ceilings and giant 7s stenciled on the walls in between giant Hydra banners. He stood there and pondered the room for a moment.

“This is an odd room for an underground bunker... not even a conference table or maps for evil plotting!”

[Boss fight?] White offered.

{I don’t see any first aid kits. There’s ALWAYS first aid kits right before you hit the Big Bad!}

[Oh wait. There’s one.] And sure enough, there on the wall was a first aid box. It was white with the giant red cross on it and everything. Just like in video games.

“So... where’s the boss?” Deadpool asked after a moment.

Right on cue, the door opposite him came flying off its hinges, making Deadpool squeal with delight. 

[BOSS FIGHT!]

{We forgot to bring popcorn!} Yellow lamented.

Deadpool threw down his guns and drew his swords.

“Ooooh... this is gonna be fun! Bring it!” Deadpool shouted. 

[Shut up! I don’t want to miss the dramatic entrance!]

A man... no... teenager? swaggered in. He was fairly average height, and blonde. He didn’t LOOK like a boss though, even though he carried a staff that was taller than he was, and wore an armored vest.

{Is.... is... that a bo staff?} Yellow murmured. It wasn’t clear if he was awed by the challenger’s balls or stupidity.

[It’s a _stick_! He’s gonna try to beat US with a _stick_!] White huffed, clearly outraged.

“You lose some sheep there Bo Peep?” Deadpool called out.

“Nah. I’m just gonna smash your face in,” the challenger grinned, cocky. “It’ll be fun!” he said, and started sidestepping carefully clockwise around the room.

[Is he crazier than we are?] White asked, baffled.

{I mean... he sees our swords right?}

[Show him the swords, Idiot!]

“I’ll only need one for this guys,” Deadpool said, and sheathed Bea. “And besides, I always pick Hwang.”

It had been a while since he’d played Soul Calibur.

[Please. You’re clearly more of a Voldo. He wears a gimp suit just like you!]

“Come at me Sung Mina!” he shouted.

{Idiot. Kilik is the one with the stick. Mina had the halberd.}

Deadpool ignored them, and charged at the idiot.

Surprisingly, Peep didn’t fall at his first sword stroke. Even more surprisingly, the staff actually blocked Deadpool’s sword. Deadpool made a noise of interested surprise, and bounced away.

“That’s a fancy stick you got there Miss Peep.”

“All the better to smash your face in!”

“You said that already,” Deadpool said. “And the red riding hood reference is just to obvious there. You really need to work on your material.”

Bo Peep shrugged. “Who cares. You’ll be dead soon anyway.” Then he attacked.

There was a flurry of motion as Deadpool’s sword clanged and clicked as it hit, bounced off, and sometimes missed that stupid stick. Deadpool even had to duck a few times to avoid being brained by the damned thing. The kid was surprising decent. Not GOOD... but decent. 

[This is BORING! End it already!]

{You might as well put him out of his misery Idiot.} Yellow sighed. {The longer you take with him the longer the others have to escape out the back.}

[That’s right! We were going to get a million points today! Hurry up!]

“Everyone’s a critic! Can’t I enjoy a good old fashioned arcade game? Look! I’ll even press down and circle!” Deadpool quipped, and did a leg sweep.

Bo Peep flipped away, landing back in front of the door he came from, now slightly out of breath.

“You’re good!” he beamed. “Let’s get serious!”

A gunshot rang out. Bo Peep went down to his knees and screamed.

Deadpool skittered away. “What the fuck?”

[Where the fuck did that come from?]

{I don’t see anyone!}

[Was that supposed to hit us?]

{Where was he hit? WHERE DID IT COME FROM?}

“Omega! You idiot! What-” Bo Peep’s rant was cut short with a perfect headshot. Peep went down. Deadpool watched with rising confusion as a very short man wielding a gun that was almost bigger than they were stepped out of the shadows from just beyond the doorway and shot the dead man twice. In the dick.

{Oooh... I sense backstory!}

[Fucking Hydra. All of them are such drama llamas.]

The guy with a gun turned to Deadpool, and took a few steps closer to him.

[Wait.]

{Wait wait wait!}

That wasn’t a very short man. It was... a small child. More specifically, an adorable small child with amazing milk chocolate brown hair put up in an intricate crown of braiding, and the largest baby blue eyes he’d ever seen. And... was that... freckles? The child only came up to barely to his chest. The kid wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or shoes. And those pants weren’t exactly sized to fit either. A large black Hydra tattoo was already fading on his left shoulder. 

Jesus fuck, Hydra were even worse parents than Deadpool was.

{You don’t have kids Idiot.}

[I’d call him more medium than small. But still... what the fuck?]

“What the fuck?” Deadpool intoned. “How old are you kid?”

“You’re Deadpool?” the child’s voice was high pitched, but unafraid. 

[He knows who we are!]

{He... it’s a CHILD! And how do you know it’s not a girl?! }

[Don’t girls wear... like shirts?]

“Yes, I’m Deadpool." Deadpool said, trying very hard to pretend that this was normal.

“Are you going to kill them all?” asked the mystery murder child.

“I’m sorta planning on it, yeah."

[Definitely going to kill them all now.]

{He’s a child!}

[We’re aware Yellow!]

The boy paused, and seemed to consider something, absently feeling his leather collar as he looked away from Deadpool. How had he not noticed the damn collar before? It was huge on the kid, taking up almost his entire neck.

{They put a collar on him! He’s a BABY!} Yellow keened.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“What you need baby boy?” Deadpool’s coo was immediate and soothing. Whatever it was, the kid would get it. The kid needed at least one break in his life.

The boy’s eyes turned to his sword, seemingly entranced.

“Can you cut my head off?”

[Wut.]

{Whaat?}

“What?”

“I need you to cut my head off. Please."

Deadpool stared at the kid, thoughts flashing through his head faster than he could register them.

[Why????]

{Maybe he thinks it’s the only way to escape Hydra?}

“Sweetie.... Look... I’ll kill them all and we’ll ride off into the sunset, yeah? No need for head choppin’," Deadpool tried.

The boy shook his head. “You don’t understand.” The poor kid was near to tears by the sound of it.

“Make me understand it then.”

“If I get to far away from the remote... it goes off," the boy said, his fingers still on that damned collar. “And... I can’t..." he hesitated, then took a breath and barreled ahead. “My gun... it’s too long. I can’t shoot myself. My arms are too short. I can’t aim it AND reach the trigger. And it’s got a fingerprint thing on it so I can’t use my toes. I’ve tried other things, but I always wake up afterwards... And I can’t take it off either- it’s got some sort of special metal reinforcement or something- I can’t... it goes off and it hurts so much.... Please. Just... make it stop?” the boy looked up at him with puppy dog sky blue eyes that bored straight into Deadpool’s withered soul.

[Oh.]

{Oh.... Sweet baby jesus. Do something Idiot!}

[Oh, we will. We’re gonna kill them all. And take our time doing it.]

{THE KID! Do something for the Kid!}

Wade stared down at the child. It had been years since he’d gotten... emotions. But it felt like a whaling harpoon had just been shoved right up the ass of his cold shriveled heart. Breathing suddenly hurt. He’d felt that way himself once before... The longing for death that he couldn’t satisfy no matter how hard he tried. And god, how he’d tried. It’d been right after... after...

[Don’t!]

{We don’t talk about her!} Yellow hissed.

This was... he would fix this. Oh, he would fix this. Fix this and then there’d be a Reckoning.

Deadpool reached out a leather gloved hand, and gently touched the boy’s face.

“It’s okay honey. I’m gonna make it better, okay?” he said softly.

The boy’s face blossomed with relief. “Thank you!” he babbled.

“Kneel for me sweetheart. And close your eyes," Deadpool’s voice was gentle. Oh so gentle.

[Now is not the time for a blowjob!]

{Please! We don’t do children!} Yellow hissed.

The boy rushed to obey.

[Is he actually going to kill him?]

“Oh, that’s not the plan," Wade said then stepped behind the child, raised his sword, and knocked the kid unconscious with the hilt.

Several hours later a stone faced Deadpool drove away in a stolen truck, a sleeping half naked child buckled safely in the passenger seat. Behind him the Hydra base did it’s best to melt into the core of the earth. There were several explosions, but Deadpool didn’t look back. Because that’s what heroes did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just to let you know that this is just the beginning! I've got nearly 30 chapters in google docs already (and counting! I'm still writing!) I just wanted to upload this first story arc in completion because it's just to awesome not to! The rest will be coming soonish - I don't have a beta reader and I want to make sure that all my work is coherent, well edited, etc before publishing it.
> 
> I also don't want to upload to fast and get myself in a box. I've seen other fics start out great and then fizzle as the writer rushes to make an upload deadline. I don't want to do that. 
> 
> The good news is that I'm off work this week for spring break, so you'll probably see more before the week is out. 
> 
> Also important to note: I wasn't kidding around with those tags. They'll be kicking in full force next chapter. I'll try to make sure there's notes at the beginning of especially sensitive chapters, but I might miss one. So.... *spooky ghost voice* _consider yourself warned..._


	5. Alabama I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The underage tag kicks in hard here, as does the past sexual abuse one. You've been warned.

Peter woke up. He wasn’t expecting that really, and it took him a minute to figure out why he was so surprised about that. Because that’s generally not what happens after you kneel in front of a known serial killer and ask politely for them to cut your head off. Yeah. He had actually done that. He laid still and waited for his brain to reboot again.

The pulsing headache... that was more in line with his luck. Oh wait. Headache? Shouldn’t it be a neck ache? Did that mean... he could survive getting his head cut off? Or... did Deadpool not do it right?

Shaking fingers found his neck, and traced it... no collar. But no obvious “cut was here” scar either. Which didn’t make sense. He always scarred horribly after taking damage. Thankfully, they faded into little white lines after a week or two.

So... either Deadpool had not in fact cut his head off, and somehow got the collar off or... he had cut his head off... and it was now two weeks later?

He wasn’t sure which scenario was the worse one.

At least the bed was nice. Well, nicer than what he’d had over the last several years anyway. It wasn’t floating in heaven quality, but it wasn’t thin foam over steel, and right now he’d take what he could get. Also he had a blanket! And a sheet! Scratchy, yes. But they existed. He flexed his toes in happiness, and damn near purred with how WARM he was. Underground bunkers were always just a tad to cold- with the concrete and steel constantly sapping warmth from your bones no matter how you laid or leaned.

He was never going to get out of this bed. Nope. Never ever.

A sudden burst of canned laughter caught Peter’s attention. Was that... a TV?

Peter cracked open an eye. A massive man dressed in a red and black leather suit was slouched in an uncomfortable looking armchair watching a TV set to some ancient sitcom.

“I can’t just leave him! He’s a baby!” Deadpool whisper shouted.

Pause.

“I know I’m the least responsible person ever!” he hissed.

Pause.

“Yeah well, we can call after he wakes up. He’s gonna be freaked out."

Pause.

“No, he isn’t dead!... Yes I know he’s been sleeping for a while now... I know how to knock people out without killing them Yellow!”

_Ooooo.... Is THAT what I look like when I talk to Kara? No wonder people say I’m crazy._ It was... unsettling to get a glimpse of what others saw when they looked at him. But he at least knew that HE wasn’t crazy. But Deadpool?

(He’s unstable Peter. Tread carefully!)

_Yeah, but that’s exactly what they say about ME._

Peter took a breath and decided to just go for it.

“Deadpool?” It came out softer and more heistant than he’d intended.

Deadpool twirled around, somehow looking shocked despite the leather mask on his face. The TV clicked off.

“Baby boy!” He exclaimed, and bounced over to the bed. “You feeling okay?”

“What... what happened?”

“I knocked you out and got that stupid collar off honey," Deadpool said, and knelt next to the bed. “How’s your head? You hurting?”

“A little."

“Sorry sweetheart. If things went sideways I didn’t want you to suffer."

Peter shook his head. “No. It’s okay,"

“Well now that you’re awake I can call the cops, and they can get you back to your folks, eh?” Deadpool was unexplainably chipper.

Peter froze. “No cops!” he hissed.

Deadpool slowly inclined his head in inquiry. “You’re a kiddy, sweetheart. Cops help kiddies."

“Kiddies yes. But not me."

“Your folks will be missing you-”

“No they won’t."

Deadpool considered him. “I don’t know what they told you, sugar, but Hydra is like... known for being lying liars. Your folks-”

“My folks moved out and left me behind like an unwanted cat. They don’t miss me." Peter said angrily.  

Another pause. “What?” That sounded angry.

Peter swallowed. “It’s not important," he managed. He didn’t really feel like going through his Tragic Past ™ at the moment. “Just... promise you won’t call the cops, yeah?”

“Someone has to take care of you doll. I know you’re not a small child, more of a medium child? But still... foster care... well, I mean, it should be better than Hydra, eh?”

“They don’t put kids in foster care who’ve killed people Deadpool. They put them jail."

Deadpool snorted. “You mean the guy you shot in the dick? Don’t sweat it sweetie. I burned that place to the ground. The cops will blame me WAY before they suspect a sweet thang like you,"

“He wasn’t my first."

There was a pause while Deadpool considered this, and hummed thoughtfully. “And the cops would know this how? Because I won’t tell. Pinkie swear." Deadpool said and offered a pinkie.

Peter shook his head. This wasn’t working. “No cops. Please. If they don’t arrest me, they’ll give me to social services. And they’ll just sell me to Hydra like they did last time," Peter didn’t need to do any acting to make his voice shake a little at that one.

“I can’t go back to Hydra. They had... plans for me. To... do things to me. I can’t... I can’t-” Peter’s voice broke.

For a second, there was a deadly tension from Deadpool. When he next spoke, it was with a deep, dark and dangerous tone.

“Don’t you worry honey. That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen."

Peter stared at Deadpool for a moment, taking in his hulking form. His broad shoulders. His gigantic muscles. His weapons, even now still strapped to his sides and back. Deadpool was dangerous, but he’d been around “dangerous” for so long it was all but meaningless now. Hell, he was fairly sure that HE was labeled “dangerous” in a file somewhere. And that had sounded... protective just now. If he could get Deadpool to ... to... keep him? That would be nice. Like a giant guard dog. Or even just a source for a roof and food until he could find other options. And Deadpool wouldn’t want to cut his balls off. Yeah? That’s not a thing that was common, yes?

(Peter don’t do this! We can survive the foster care system. You and me. We have options.)

He remembered the van. The lies. The people who pretended to be nice and helpful and weren’t. Deadpool at least didn’t pretend. He wore his danger like colors on a venomous snake.

Peter decided.

(Don’t do this Peter! You have me now!)

He threw off the covers to reveal his bare chest, and slowly reached out a hand to touch Deadpool’s face mask. “You could keep me," he said softly, as Deadpool froze.

Peter touched the mask, and let his fingers run over the leather. He bit his lip, and smiled at him. Hopefully seductively.  “I..." _Come on... say it._ “I can make you feel good.” Peter offered softly.  

Deadpool apparently stopped breathing.

Peter traced over where he thought Deadpool’s lips would be. “I’m good at it. I can... You can do anything you want to me, yeah?”

When Deadpool continued to not move, Peter’s brows crinkled a bit as he frowned slightly in thought. His gaze fell on Deadpool’s hand. He grabbed it, and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm through the leather, and switched to puppy dog eyes, looking up at Deadpool through his lashes.

“You wanna touch me?” Peter asked, and brought the hand down to his chest, ran it over his very unsexy protruding ribs. Damn Hydra and their near starvation diet.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me, you know? I’ve got a healing factor," Peter tried to look sexily into Deadpool’s mask eye holes. It was a struggle. Damn that mask! What was Deadpool thinking? Was he buying it?

“No," The voice was calm. Deadly. Peter flinched, and tried not to panic as Deadpool dragged him out of bed, and gathered him up to firmly squash him against his chest.

“Don’t worry honey. You don’t have to do that. Not ever again," Deadpool said firmly, tucking Peter’s head under his chin.

It took Peter a moment to even realize what Deadpool was doing. It’d been so long.

_He’s hugging me. Holy shit. He’s hugging me._

It was... nice, Peter finally decided. Deadpool’s arms were HUGE. And firm. And comforting. Peter found himself relaxing into the iron chest. _He smells like leather. And gunpowder._ Peter wondered what he smelled like. He couldn’t quite place when he’d last showered...  

_Great idea Peter. Try to seduce someone while you smell like crap. Wonderful idea. Idiot._ He still couldn’t keep himself from shuddering slightly, and burying his face into Deadpool’s neck.

“Please..." Peter whispered. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for.

“Shhhh... Daddy’s got you sweetheart. Gonna take good care of you, yeah?”

Peter froze for a second. “You’re... not gonna call the cops?”

“No honey. No. I’m keeping you. But not like that. You hear me? Not like that," Deadpool’s voice had started gentle, but ended as steely as the swords on his back.

Peter was silent for a moment before melting again. “Okay," he said quietly.

They stayed there for a minute. Peter fingering one Deadpool’s leather straps, while Deadpool rocked them both gently. And Peter let himself think, _This just might be okay._

Deadpool was the first one to break the spell.

“What’s your name baby boy?” his voice was husky.

“Omega 13."

Deadpool hummed in disapproval. “That sounds like a Hydra thing."

“It is."

“You have something people called you before Hydra got their hands on you?”

Peter considered for a long moment. Why was saying his name so hard?

_Get a grip Peter. You literally just asked him to fuck you. You can tell him your name._

“Peter," he finally said.

“Ah... my sweet lil Petey-pie,"

Peter snorted a laugh into Deadpool’s neck. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called him “sweet".

“I’m Wade."

“Wade," Peter said softly. Deadpool sighed, and for a second, squeezed him a bit harder.

(Oh Peter.) Kara said softly, disappointment heavy in her voice. (What have you done now?)

Peter ignored her.


	6. Alabama II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as the previous chapter: Underage and past sexual abuse. This is the last chapter, but as seen from Wade's POV.

“I can make you feel good," the boy said, and touched Deadpool’s face.

For a moment, Deadpool’s brain was broken. Non functional. Even the voices stopped their usual background babble. The kid kept talking, but Deadpool didn’t hear it.

The boy grabbed his hand and kissed it, looking up at him through his thick lashes with those amazing blue eyes and those damning freckles.

[Shit. Fuck.]

{Well... that explains the whole “shot in the dick thing” earlier.}

_Oh. OH._

This was not okay. This was _galaxies_ away from okay.

“You wanna touch me?”

The kid ran Deadpool’s hand over his ribs- Jesus... he could feel every single one of those ribs even through his gloves. When was the last time this kid had eaten?

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me, you know? I’ve got a healing factor," the CHILD was saying, doing it’s best to look... sexy? How did a child even know what a sexy look looked like? What even was his life right now?

[If you get hard right now...]

{I think his dick is shriveling. I don’t think that’s happened before.}

“No," The word came out without even needing to be thought about. He dragged the kid out of bed and hugged him tightly to his chest.

“Don’t worry honey. You don’t have to do that. Not ever again."

The kid shivered in his grip.

“Please,” the kid begged.

“Shhhh... Daddy’s got you sweetheart. Gonna take good care of you, yeah?” Wade said firmly.

[Daddy? Really?]

{I thought we’d established that you can’t take care of a houseplant, let alone a child.}

“You’re... not gonna call the cops?” the voice sounded so broken.

“No honey. No. I’m keeping you. But not like that. You hear me? Not like that," Wade growled.

{This is such a bad idea!}

[He smells so good!]

He did. The kid’s brown hair smelled like smoke and dirt, but underneath that was a faint scent of... cookie dough ice cream? It took all of Wade’s self control not to bury his face into that hair and inhale that scent like a sex pervert.

[You already are a sex pervert. You're wearing a gimp suit, remember?]

{Of course he smells like sweets. Because he’s a child. A CHILD, WADE!}

_I know!_

{Then let go of him already!}

Wade really really didn’t want to. It’d been so long... when was the last time he’d touched someone and hadn’t killed them?

{We don’t talk about her!}

Right. Don’t think about... her. Focus on the kid, who was currently melting in his arms and gently tracing one of his leather straps with his fingers. 

[We don’t even know his name.]

{Yeah. You should ask him.}

“What’s your name baby boy?” his voice was husky.

“Omega 13."

Wade hummed in disapproval. “That sounds like a Hydra thing."

“It is,” the boy said, his voice small.

“You have something people called you before Hydra got their hands on you?”

Wade waited. Did the kid not remember his own name? How long had Hydra had him? The bastards.

[Should have taken more time with them.] White hissed.

{We couldn’t! Had to get the kid out!}  

“Peter," the kid finally said.

“Ah... my sweet lil Petey-pie."

Peter! snorted a laugh into Wade’s neck.

“I’m Wade."

“Wade," Peter said softly. Wade sighed, and for a second squeezed him a bit harder. It was impossible not to.

[Oh... this is going to end so badly.]

{Just... don’t get him killed yeah?}

Yeah. How would he do that?

[Feed him! All the things! I did NOT like the way those ribs felt!]

{I agree with White. You need to feed this kid.}

Wow. The kid got the voices to agree on something. Today was just a day of firsts.

Almost to reinforce the boxes, the kid’s stomach growled.

“Well, that does it. We’re gonna get you some food in you baby boy," Wade said and let go of the kid. Was it just his imagination, or was the kid just as reluctant to let go as he was?

Wade stood up. “You want Ihop or Taco Bell?”

The kid, no Peter, stared at him. “You’re gonna take me somewhere?”

“Of course!”

Peter bit his lip, and scrunched those eyebrows. Adorable.

“I don’t think they’d let me in," Peter said softly.

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t have a shirt... or shoes... or well.."

Wade hummed as he thought, looking at Peter.

{He looks... greasy... now that you mention it.}

[Bath time!]

“I tell you what. You go take a shower, and I’ll rummage up something. Then we’ll go get something to eat and go to Walmart afterwards to get you some stuff."

“Walmart?”

“Ain’t no one judges you at Walmart, baby. First you get the basics at Walmart, and then you wear what you buy at Walmart to the other stores so they don’t kick you out!”

Peter giggled at that. “I’ll have to remember that," he said.

“I know! It’s genius! Now go get that shower baby cakes!”

Peter hesitated, then headed for the bathroom.


	7. Alabama III

Peter stood under the shower head and just basked in the scalding hot water. It’d been ages since he’d had a properly hot shower. He’d scrubbed himself raw with the soap twice now, and had used pretty much the entirety of the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that the hotel provided. 

Was this what heaven was like? He wasn’t sure. He leaned against a wall, and breathed in the steam. He’d dreamed of days like this. Well... not exactly like this, but still. A hot shower. A nice guy who DIDN’T want to fuck him into the mattress, and maybe some pancakes in the future? It seemed to good to be true. 

Maybe it was. 

Maybe he was dreaming. 

(You’re not dreaming Peter.) 

And that was another thing. Kara was acting all weird. Since when did she call him by his name? 

So... probably dreaming then. Which meant that when he woke up-

_ No no no no. Don’t think about that. _ Right. No use wasting a perfectly good dream. If he questioned it to much he might wake up before he got pancakes. And dear god how he wanted pancakes. 

Right. Dreaming. Don’t waste it. 

He reluctantly got out of the shower. 

And that’s when he realized he didn’t have a hair brush. He’d left it in his bunk back at the base.

Great. The sum total of his possessions right now consisted of a too-large pair of dirty sweatpants, a hair tie, and like 50 bobby pins. Just, ya know, life’s essentials.

Peter took a breath. Can’t focus on that now. Wade was waiting on him. And besides. It was HIS dream. Of course things were going to suck a little, right? 

Now that he had his hair down, it extended almost past his ass. It took ages for the tiny underpowered hair dryer built into the wall to work it’s magic. It didn’t help that his hair was thick as... well... one of those hair models in the magazines. At least genetic engineering was good for something, he supposed.

He didn’t take the time to put his hair back up again. Wade had been waiting long enough, and he couldn’t risk waking up before pancakes. So he just did a simple three strand braid over his shoulder that went down to his belly button and left the bathroom. He found Wade sitting in a chair in a corner looking down at his smartphone, his leg bouncing. Sometime during Peter’s shower Wade had gotten changed into gray sweats and a matching hoodie, and had the hood up.

“Sorry," Peter said, feeling sorry. “I... it takes a while to wash my hair," he gestured to the mostly dry braid that was flipped over his shoulder.

Wade looked up, and Peter wasn’t sure who was more startled, Wade or Peter.

They both stared at the other for a minute. Wade’s eyes were wide and brown. His face was covered in scars. It looked like he’d gotten into a fight with someone armed with a flamethrower and had lost badly. Which was a shame, because he looked like he would have been decent looking without the scars. 

Wade spoke first.

“Sweet Jesus honey badger! I would think so! I... you ready to go eat? I got you a hoodie and some sneakers... they’re gonna be big on you, but they’ll make you suitable enough for some fast food," Wade said nervously, and waved at a very large red hoodie that was on the bed.

Peter froze for a moment. He wanted to ask about Wade’s face but... that would be rude, right? And the whole point was to convince Wade to keep him... He shook himself. It didn't matter. He was just dreaming after all.  Better to ignore it. It’s not like Wade could help it, yeah? And to be honest, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen either. 

“Thanks,” Peter said, and dragged his gaze down to the hoodie. He was blushing. Why was he blushing? To distract himself, he pulled on the hoodie. It was  _ huge _ on him. The sleeves extended at least three inches past his hands, and the hem went damn near his knees. And the shoes... well, if he tied them as tight as possible they more or less stayed on. But he was going to trip in them if he wasn’t careful.

“I’m as ready as I’m gonna be," Peter said, and willed a smile up at Wade, who beamed back at him.

Twenty minutes later they were in a booth at Denny’s where a teenage waitress was doing her best to be professional and failing miserably at it. 

“Can I... uh... can I take your order... Sir?” she squeaked.

Apparently a burn victim and a homeless teen were to much for her.  

“I’ll have the T-bone steak and eggs. With orange juice and coffee. And like... 3 of those fruit cups? And some of those chocolate banana pancakes... with scrambled eggs. And extra bacon. Like... as much bacon as you’re legally allowed to give me," He looked at Peter. “What you want pumpkin? You can get anything you want.”

“Um..." Peter stared at the menu. Anything he wanted huh? This just kept getting better and better. “I’ll... have the grand slam. But extra eggs. Like... 4 extra eggs. Scrambled. And biscuits and gravy. And oo! These blueberry hush puppy things. And orange juice in like the biggest glass you have,"  

He looked up at the waitress, who smiled nervously at him. “Sure thing," she said, and scurried off to the safety of the kitchen. 

“Hey..." Wade said quietly. Peter looked at him. 

“I meant what I said earlier. Anything you want. But don’t make yourself sick honey." 

Peter frowned, then pouted at him. “But I’m  _ hungry _ !” he whined.

“Yeah. But I don’t want you to get sick. You eat all you want. But when you get full, stop, yeah? We can take the rest home. There’ll be food later, I promise,” Wade said, his eyes earnest. 

Peter frowned at him.

“I’m not a child, Wade," Peter said, but his tone was petulant. 

“Yeah you kinda are, sweetums."

Peter crossed his arms and sulked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sulked. And yet... here he was. Being fucking 5 again. Damn it.

Wade hummed, and checked his phone before putting it away. He seemed to debate with himself, before speaking again.

“I know what it’s like to go hungry sugar. You don’t have to hoard food or stuff yourself. Promise."

Peter looked at him. Wade held Peter’s hand. His face seemed solemn and sad.

“Okay," Peter said begrudgingly. “But I’m still hungry,"

“Of course sweat pea."

Wade proceeded to totally demolish his breakfast, and shoved the fruit cups at Peter, who ate 2 of them along with about half of his food pile. They ate in relative silence, mainly because Peter was shoving food in face like he never expected to eat again.

“Slow down baby! Chew!” Wade scolded him, trying to hold back giggles as Peter made orgasmic noises over the eggs.

“It’s so good!” Peter keened,  “It’s been years since I’ve had eggs that aren’t nearly freaking raw!” Peter managed around a mouthful of eggs while he tried to shove even more eggs in. “Only thing more incompetent and evil than a Hydra scientist is a Hydra cook," Peter grumbled, and swallowed so he could shove the last of the eggs in his mouth.

“A Hydra cook?” Wade offered thoughtfully. “Never thought about that. I guess someone does have to feed the troops..." He mused as he sipped at his coffee.

“Yep. Janitors to. Someone’s gotta mop the floor and unclog the toilets."

Wade sniggered. “Do they have official Hydra plungers?”

The thought made Peter stop, and think. He chewed. “You know... I never noticed. But I would not be surprised."

Wade said something else, but Peter didn’t hear it. He stared at the mounds of food, and his nearly empty plates. It was as if everything went out of focus and then zoomed in all at once. His hands gripped the table, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t breathe. He felt.... He felt...

“Petey-pie?” A hand gripped his, and Peter looked up into those big brown eyes.

“You okay?”

Peter struggled. “Is... is this real?” he whispered.

The eyes blinked. Frowned, then turned sad.

“Yes honey," Wade’s voice was quiet. “Real as anything."

Peter’s gaze went down to the pancakes. How long had it been since he’d had pancakes? Or orange juice? He didn’t want this to be a dream anymore. He wanted this to be real. 

_ Oh god, please let this be real.  _

(It’s real Peter. Calm down. I’m here.)

“How you feelin puddin’?”

“I feel... weird."

“It’s okay. It’ll pass. I promise,"

Peter looked around dully. “I ... I don’t want to be here,” Peter managed, his voice panicked.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I... not here. Anywhere but here."

“Sure. Let’s go get some air, okay?” Wade pulled a wad of money out of his pocket and threw some bills on the table.

Wade stood up, and then looked at Peter expectantly. Peter gaped up at him like a fish out of water.

“I...”

“I’m gonna help you get up, okay?” Wade said quietly, and then pulled Peter out of the booth.

Peter felt like he was drunk. His limbs didn’t seem to work properly.

“Is everything okay sir?” A voice came from behind them. Peter didn’t look behind. But it sounded like a manager.

“It’s alright. Just a panic attack. We’re gonna go sit outside for a bit," Wade’s voice was light and airy. As if panic attacks were a perfectly normal thing to have after eating pancakes.

(Wade’s right. You’re having a panic attack. Remember to breathe Peter.)

Wade dragged him outside, and sat him down on a cold steel bench before sitting next to him, and draped one of his massive arms over Peter’s shoulders.

Peter gasped and shook, and buried his face into Wade’s chest.

“Shh... It’s okay. It’ll pass. Listen to my heart honey,"

Wade’s heartbeat was slow and steady.

They sat there in silence, watching traffic until Peter’s ass was numb from the bench, and he could breathe again.

“Feelin better?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, but his voice was shaky.

Wade used a free hand to turn Peter’s face up to Wade’s and studied his face.

Peter looked back blankly. He didn’t have the energy to feel... anything right now.

“Hmm... so. We have a choice to make right now sweet pea."

“A choice?”

“Yep," Wade popped the p.

“We can get in the truck and drive on down to the next town, stay in a hotel there and try a Walmart run tomorrow. Or we could go to Walmart now, and then hit the road after. What you want?”

Peter considered. If they went tomorrow... that meant another day in these sweatpants. Another day without underwear. He desperately missed underwear. Hydra had never had any in his size so he’d been forced to go commando. And Hydra sweatpants were not the softest.

“Walmart now," he said.

“You sure?”

“I want to burn these pants Wade. I can’t do that if I’m still wearing them."

Wade chuckled. “As you wish.” 


	8. Alabama IV

The drive to Walmart was a quiet one aside from the British voice he’d picked for his google assistant reading out directions.

Peter seemed content to simply stare out the window at the sky so Wade let him be. Occasionally, Wade would glance over at him, just to check to see if he was still there. Still real. And not another hallucination. The jury was still out on that. 

Especially considering Peter’s reaction to him after he got out of the shower. Or rather, his lack of one. He’d expected a panic attack or puking or just... something when Peter had found Wade without his mask on. But Peter almost didn’t seem to notice his scars... and he’d been so relieved about it Wade hadn’t brought it up in case he broke some kind of “good karma” spell or something.

But then again, he’d felt awful real when they’d hugged...

[Just how fucked up is this kid if Denny’s scares him more than US?] White grumped.

{Give him time, White. He still hasn’t met ALL of us yet. He’ll start running the minute Idiot forgets and talks to us.}

_ Fuck.... they were right. _

[Of course we’re right. When have we ever been wrong?]

_ Okay... sooo... just don’t talk to the boxes. Easy right? _

The boxes started laughing.

“Where are we?”

The kid’s voice was unexpected, and Wade jumped a bit.

{Smooth. Real smooth.}

“What?”

“What state are we in? Are we in the U.S.?”

“Alabama sweet pea."

“Really?”

“Yep."

“Ugh."

“Where would you rather be?”

“Not Alabama."

Wade chuckled.

“Well the good news is that once we’re done with Walmart we’re heading straight out of the state and heading east."

“Oh. Where?”

“New York."

Peter tensed beside him.

Wade waited but Peter didn’t say anything.

“Everything okay honey buns?”

“It's fine. Just... bad memories”

“Hmmm."

Wade wondered if Peter had any good ones.

The shopping trip started easily enough. They grabbed a cart and Wade went straight for the duffel bags.

Better than a suitcase.

After that they grabbed essentials. Peter was a little put out that Wade headed for the kids section automatically, then sulked when they found things that fit. But he refused the Captain America briefs, complaining  “I'm not a baby Wade!” And went for boxer briefs that were a solid gray instead, much to Wade's disappointment. To make up for it he grabbed a pair of boxers that had smiley faces on the ass for himself.

Next was the hair stuff. Peter was gonna need that stuff in spades. Wade couldn’t remember the last time he’s seen so much hair.

The aisle was a long one. And crammed full of every product imaginable. The men’s section wasn’t very big- the women won in that department easily with 4 “just for curls!” for every one version of old spice.

Peter stared at the bounty.

“I... what should I get?”

“I don’t know honey. What do you usually use?”

“Bar soap?”

Wade winced. “Yeah. I haven’t had hair in years and even I know that’s no good. Why don’t you just... pick one that smells good?”

“Smells good?”

“Well.. I mean... they all clean hair, yeah? More or less the same I think," Wade picked a particularly pink bottle off the shelf at random and looked at the back. Hibiscus? Ginger?

[Don’t you cook with ginger?]

{Are they making a curry or a shampoo?}

“So... pick a couple that you like, and if you don’t like ‘em we’ll try something else next time we go shopping, eh?”

“Okay," Peter said hesitantly.

He started, logically enough, with the men’s stuff. Wade watched with amusement as Peter opened bottles, sniffed daintily, then made various faces of “ew” for 5 minutes. One particular bottle warranted a small dry heave apparently.

“Something wrong Petey-pie?” Wade asked, the height of innocence.

Peter made a face. “They all STINK Wade! How does anyone use this stuff?” Peter glared at the bottles as if they were doing it on purpose.

“Ya know," Wade offered, “You haven’t tried any of the flower ones. You might like those better,"

Peter frowned. “Flowers?”

Wade gestured to the decidedly more colorful section of the aisle. “That one over there has roses in it. Or at least. Roses on the bottle. That’s one’s probably better than ..." Wade looked at the most offensive bottle that Peter had rejected. “Bearglove?”

[WTF is a bearglove?]

{It has bears on it... does it smell like bears?}

[SMELL IT WADE!]

{It can’t smell like bears. The whole point of soap is to NOT smell like a bear. Right?}

Wade did smell it. It was... manly. Somehow. He couldn’t pin down a particular scent. But definitely did not smell like an angry bear as was suggested by the picture on the bottle. He should know. He’d been mauled by a bear once- it had stunk to high heaven.

“Huh," he grunted. Definitely not worthy of a dry heave in his book, but maybe the kid had a sensitive nose?

Wade put the bottle back, and found Peter glaring at him.

“What?”

“I’m not a girl," Peter growled very firmly.

Wade blinked. “Yeeeesss?” he said as dramatically as possible.

{Did we miss a part of the conversation somewhere?}

[Why did that have bears on the packaging if it doesn’t smell like bears?]

{Shut up about bears already. Peter’s upset.}

[Wait. What? Is he upset about the bears to?]

{Shut up or we’ll miss something else!}

Wade waited. Peter continued glaring.

“I’m not a girl," Peter repeated even more firmly.

“I’m aware.... Is there a problem?”

“Why would I use stuff for girls if I’m not a girl?”

Wade blinked at him. Repeatedly. Frowned slightly. 

“You know... there’s nothing wrong with smelling like flowers sweet heart. It’s not like using...” he picked up another pink bottle and read the label, “‘Herbal Essence Smooth Collection with Rose Hips’ is gonna make your balls fall off. You’ll just smell like rose hips. Whatever that is.”

Peter flinched slightly at that.

Wade’s frown deepened, and he put the offending bottle carefully back on the shelf.

[Did you see that?]

{Why is Petey so scared of a little pink?}

Wade deliberated for a minute, studying Peter’s face, which radiated “I’m super upset right now” like a billboard. Clearly girly stuff was a no-go. Period. And it went beyond the usual “I’m a man’s man!” BS that most other guys for some reason dragged around with them.

{He did shoot that guy in the dick...} Yellow remembered. {And he did say... “do anything TO me,” when he was being... sexy. Ugh.} Yellow shuddered at the memory.

[That’s bad right?]

{Shut up White. And yes, it’s bad!}

Wade saw the picture that Yellow was suggesting. And didn’t like it. Not one bit. Okay. So... avoid girly stuff. Got it. He turned his gaze back to the aisle.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ve seen commercials for this Sauve stuff over here... and they have both women  _ and _ men in them. And the bottle’s blue! No pink!”

He opened it and sniffed. “And no flowers. In fact it kinda smells oceany.” He offered the bottle to Peter, who took it gingerly, and took a whiff.

“Its... okay.” Peter said, grudgingly.

“Great!” Wade grabbed the matching conditioner, and threw it in the cart.

“Now let’s get you a hair dryer!” Wade said brightly, and started moving to the next aisle over.

He realized his mistake almost immediately. From the various packaging, it seemed that most of the companies were on a “fighting breast cancer” kick or something. Most of them were pink. Or “rose”. Or purple.

_ Ahhhh shit. _

Peter arrived behind him and groaned. “UGH!”

“Um... maybe if we dig we can find a good one?” Wade said hopefully.

They dug. At the bottom of a shelf they found a black and red one.

Peter frowned at the price. “Is $60 a lot Wade?” he asked hesitantly. “The other ones  don’t seem as expensive...”

“Throw it in the cart baby. It’s all good. I’ll have you know that red and black is the IN thing this season! It’s worth the extra bucks!” Wade babbled.

Peter frowned at him for a moment before snorting. “If you say so Wade.”

They moved on.

In the hair brush aisle Wade picked a gigantic black paddle brush and threw it in the cart without even stopping, trying to avoid another crisis.

“Gotta keep moving honey!” he said, “Gotta get out of here before dark and all that.”

“Wait Wade!” Peter protested, jogging to keep up. “I need like... hair ties and things!”

And thus Wade was forced to wait with the cart while Peter picked out 3 packs of hair elastics, some detangling spray, and a “detangle” comb.

“You really need that many elastics?” Wade asked, and picked up a pack. Each little cardboard thingy boasted at holding “Over 50!” hair ties each.

“Yep,” Peter said, and picked up some bobby pins. “You’d be surprised at what you can use them for.” 4 packs of bobby pins went in the cart, quickly followed by some sort of... double helix screws?

Wade picked it up. “I didn’t know they sold torture devices at Walmart,” Wade mused.  “I mean, aside from their CD selection, obviously. Who even listens to Enya anyway?” 

He twirled it in his fingers. “Guess that’s what I get for going bald, eh?” 

Peter frowned, looked at what he had, and giggled. “That’s not a torture thing Wade. It’s for buns.” 

Wade frowned. “Buns? God I hope not. You gonna shove this into your patootie? I think that’s like the definition of a torture thing, honey.” 

“Hair buns, Wade. Its for hair. That’s why it’s in the hair aisle,” Peter said, and rolled his eyes. 

“If you say so sweetie-pie,” Wade said, tossed the object into the cart, and watched as Peter studied the rest of the hair scrunchy aisle.

[For someone who doesn’t do girly stuff he sure has long hair.] White said.

There was a moment of silence in Wade’s mind.

{Did... did White just make a good observation?}

Huh. White did have a point though.

[What? I have eyes!]

{Actually you don’t. Who are you and what have you done with White?}

[It’s me! I swear it!]

Wade grimaced.

_ Enough! _ He tried to think, but they kept bickering.

Peter however, caught Wade’s look, and looked worried. “Um... do I need to put something back?” he asked.

“What? Oh. No sweet pea.” Wade turned a blinding smile at him. “Just some stray thoughts. Lots of driving coming up. That sort of thing,” Wade lied.

“Do... you not like driving?”

“It’s okay. But Tennessee is a bitch to pass through. It just goes on for forever. And don’t even get me started on Nashville. It’s just a giant pain the ass that literally all roads in Tennessee go through,” Wade rambled. 

“Are we going to have to go through Tennessee?”

“Yep. We can stop at the National Parks though. Those are nice.” Wade paused, “Just don’t ask to go to Dollywood.”

“Dollywood?”

“It’s like a tiny Disney World. But more Dolly Parton.”

“Who?”

“Who? Who’s Dolly? What blasphemy! Now at least I know what our playlist is going to be.” Wade grinned.

Peter looked baffled. “As long as it’s not country...”

Wade laughed.


	9. Alabama V - The Walmart Incident

Peter couldn’t remember if he’d ever been to a Walmart before. It was so big! He just kept close to Wade who seemed to know where he was going. He was just glad Wade hadn’t pushed to much about the shampoo thing. Peter had been very close to a meltdown there, and Wade had not only noticed, but just neatly side stepped the whole issue. And it was such a stupid thing to. Ugh. Why was he so useless? It was just shampoo!

(You’re getting upset again Peter.) Kara observed.

And that was another thing! Kara had gotten strangely more... human since he’d left Hydra. And it wasn’t a little shift either. She’d actually said, “What have you done now?” with a  _ tone. _ Like she was disappointed. She’d  _ never _ done that before. Since when did an “AI” that barely had the “I” part have... emotions?

He’d hoped it’d been a fluke, but there she was again. Calling him Peter. Making comments on his emotions. Instead of just saying “Your cortisol levels are high,” whatever that meant. And since he knew he definitely wasn’t dreaming, that meant something was very very wrong. 

“You okay Peter?” Wade asked. They were standing in line, waiting to check out.

“I... I need to go pee,” Peter said. He needed a minute to himself. Desperately.

Wade nodded. “Good idea. Bathroom’s over there,” he nodded at a part of the wall near the entrance.

“I’ll be back,” Peter said, and tried not to walk too fast. Wade didn’t need to know he was close to another panic attack. Ugh. Another thing that he was sucking at now apparently. He almost never had them. And now he was on track to have two in just one day!

_ WTF is happening to me?? _

He barrelled into the boy’s bathroom, ignoring a startled dad and a toddler, and went into a stall and sat down. He sunk his face into his hands.

“What’s going on Kara?” he murmured.

Kara remained silent.

“Kara?” he said, warningly.

(When I was first installed I was badly damaged. I have been repairing myself. It is a slow process.)

Peter considered this. He could remember that time. For the first two months, Hydra had conducted test after test before eventually declaring the device to be “non functional”. But then... he’d started to hear her voice. And a few months ago she started being able to show him things. Like pictures of puppies to calm him down. Or new braid designs for him to work on during all those hours he spent alone in his bunk.

“And?”

(Once we were able to leave the Hydra compound I have been able to access WiFi in various places... it has sped the repair process by several factors.)

“Remember I’m stupid Kara,” Peter sighed softly. “Dumb it down for me.”

(I’ve been able to use other computers nearby to make my repairs go faster. This Walmart has been very helpful. There’s so many unsecured computers nearby! There are at least 20 in the electronics department alone!)

“And... so... what happens when you’re fully repaired?”

(I will be fully operational!)

Peter had visions of Death Stars.

“How... how operational would you say you are now?”

(35%)

“Okay... okay. Don’t.... Don’t panic,” Peter mumbled.

(Why would you panic Peter? I am only here to help you.)

“That’s what you say now...” Peter sighed. Wonderful. He could feel his heart rate going crazy already. The walls of the stall started to close in on him. And... yep. He was definitely going to die this time. Why did bathrooms have so little air?

His death spasms were eventually interrupted by a banging on the stall door. “Open up!”

“What?” Peter gasped. He could see shiny black shoes through the opening at the bottom of the stall door. They looked suspiciously official.

“Please exit the stall. If you do not do it yourself, I will open it for you.” The voice boomed. It reeked of Authority.

“Okay! Okay! Just... give me minute,” Peter said, and struggled to be a person again.

“Now!”

Peter stood up, took a breath, and opened the stall door. A man stood there, in a black uniform that was adorned with various sewn on patches and too many pockets. And a belt with... yep that was a nightstick and heavy velcro instead of a buckle.

Great. A security guard.

“Is... is something wrong?” Peter squeaked, making himself small. He was in no shape to do anything right now, and concentrated on not shaking to badly.

The guard frowned down at him. “You are in the men’s bathroom young lady,” he thundered.

Wait. What?

“What?” Peter parroted.

“You are in the wrong bathroom. Where are your parents? What did you take just now?”

“What?” it was now a squawk.

“You are obviously on something,” the guard said, touching Peter’s face, and making him look him in the eyes.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take anything! And I’m a boy!”

“Uh huh. You’re high as a kite kid,” the guard sighed. “Come on. We’ll go call social services, yeah?”

When Peter didn’t move, the guard grabbed his wrist and started to drag him out of the bathroom. Peter squeaked in indignation, but couldn’t coordinate not dying and also putting up a resistance. It wasn’t until they were out of the bathroom altogether that Peter realized the guard was serious, and started to put up a fight.

“Let go of me!” Peter shouted, and when that didn’t work, “Ow! You’re hurting me!” he wailed. That last part was a lie, but if enough people noticed maybe he could escape in the confusion. Maybe. He dug in his heels the best he could in his stupid oversized shoes. They were too thick for him to use his “sticky feet” trick. And in theory, he COULD just throw the guard across the entirety of Walmart to land somewhere in toys, but he didn’t think he could manage that at the moment. Just breathing was hard enough already.  

**“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”** the voice of God himself thundered, and suddenly Wade was there, in all of his 6’4” swole glory. Every inch of him practically vibrated with murderous intent, and if Peter wasn’t so happy to see him, he might have pissed himself with fear.

The guard looked intimidated as fuck, before checking himself. “This has nothing to do with you sir-”

**“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FUCKING KID,”** a pistol appeared in Wade’s hands, and pointed straight at the guard’s forehead. The guard froze.

Peter knew an opening when he saw one. He kicked the guard hard in the shin, and when the guard flinched with a curse, ran to Wade.

“Daddy!” the word ripped itself from Peter’s throat before he even knew what he was saying. Peter flung his arms around Wade’s heavenly waist and shoved his face into his side, and waited for the earth to open up to swallow him whole. His cheeks burned. Why the fuck did he say that? Wade wasn’t his dad. He hadn’t even known this man for more than few hours!

But Wade threw an arm around Peter anyway. “You okay sweet pea? Did that pervert touch you?” the voice was soft. The gun never wavered from it’s target.

Peter shook his head mutely.

“Please calm down sir. I caught your daughter doing drugs in the men’s bathroom-”

Peter froze. That hole was more than welcome to come any minute now. His face was going to set Wade’s hoodie on fire if this kept up.

“Excuse me? First of all, my perfect angel would never do such a thing, and second of all,” Wade cocked the gun, “HE can use whatever restroom HE damn well pleases!”

Wait. Wait... was Wade really going to shoot the guard? Not only that, but people were frozen nearby, staring. This... this was going to be bad. Very bad.

(Peter! He’s unstable, remember? Get him to stop!)

“Please... I want to go,” Peter said. “Can we go please?” he drew a breath. “Daddy?” he tried, his voice pleading, almost breaking. He didn’t need to act for that part.

Wade froze, gun still aimed at the guard.

Peter frantically looked for a way out. “I want ice cream,” Peter babbled. “Can we go to Baskin Robbins? There’s one just down the street.” He tugged gently on Wade’s arm. Anything to get the man moving towards the exit.

“Anything you want sugar pie,” Wade said after a moment. He put away the gun, spun in place and grabbed the cart. He started to power walk out of Walmart. Peter had to scramble to keep up. People hurried to scatter to get out of their way. He risked a glance back at their terrified faces before running out into the parking lot after Wade.

Peter followed him to the truck, and helped Wade throw things in. He shoved the empty cart onto a little dirt island, and hopped in the truck. He managed to get buckled in just in time for Wade to not quite peel out of the parking lot.

Wade was babbling about different kinds of ice cream. Apparently pistacho was the bitch flavor, followed closely by strawberry. Whatever that meant. Peter didn't really care but the chatter gave him time to get his breathing under control again. When Wade stopped to take a breath, Peter took the chance to interject.

“Thank you for stopping him Wade,” Peter said quietly. “He said he was going to call the cops.”

Wade went silent. “You... you aren’t scared of me?” Wade asked carefully, and merged onto a highway.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I... it was my fault. I... shouldn’t have caused a scene like that. I didn’t mean to... to upset you.” Peter clenched his hands together in his lap.

Wade winced. “That... no. Don’t you ever apologize for being attacked. That was not your fault,” his voice was firm. “I’m responsible for my own actions pumpkin. I freaked out a little back there, okay? But that’s not your fault. Not ever.”

Peter nodded. “Okay,” he said, but his voice was small.

Wade sighed.

Peter squirmed a bit in his seat, just waiting for Wade to bring up the whole “daddy” thing. Ugh. Why was he like this?

“Did you really want ice cream? Because that’s gonna have to wait a while now.”

“Not really. I can wait...”

Wade snorted. “You thought it would get me out of the store?”

Peter stayed silent, thinking. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Next time just tell me to fucking go, yeah? I’m good at following orders.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He looked out the window, and hesitantly turned to peer out the back.

“It’ll be a good 10 minutes before the cops even get there and figure out what’s going on, honey bun. We’ll be fine.”

Peter nodded, and tried to relax. Then he noticed a highway sign.

“Wade?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes?”

“I thought you wanted to go to New York?”

“Yep.”

“So... why are we going west?”

“Gotta ditch the truck and change sweetums. So we go west first, ditch the truck, and get us a new ride. THEN we go east.”

“Oh.” That made... a lot of sense actually.

Wade chuckled. “Not my first rodeo with pissin’ off the locals baby boy.”

Peter could imagine that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade going all protective Mama Bear is one of my favorite parts of any spiderpool story. And what better place to go ballistic than a Walmart?


	10. Alabama VI

Wade stopped at a rest stop somewhere in Montgomery, Alabama.

“Go get changed,” Wade said. “I’ll look on craigslist and see if any locals have something worth buying.”

“You’re not going to steal a car?” Peter asked.

“Not unless I have to. Cops will be expecting that anyway. Plus we’re going to be going interstate. Locals are one thing. Feds are another story. They’re just a pain in the ass to be rid of.”

“Ah.” Peter said, as if that explained everything, then disappeared into the bathroom with a bundle of clothes. Wade hesitated a moment, then relocated from the truck to the wall right next to the bathroom door. That guard incident was NOT going to happen again.

{Poor kid. That guard was an asshole. Peter was clearly having a panic attack, not high on something. We’re going to have to do something about these attacks of his.}

“What the fuck could I do about them?” Wade muttered.

[How about giving him a haircut? So people know he’s actually a boy.]

Wade considered this. “If he wanted a haircut I don’t think he would have bought all those bobby pins,” he said.

[I still say we should have shot the pig. Did you see how he was pulling on Peter?]

{Did we ever check his arm? He was shouting about the asshole hurting him.}

[Why didn’t we shoot the pig again?]

“Because the kid was right. Hydra will be looking for us soon. No need for the cops to be hunting us to.”

[Cops are always hunting us. Stupid pigs.]

Wade sighed, and pulled out his phone. “What should we get today?” he mused.

[I want a Camaro!]

{Please. Like we would FIT in a Camaro. Beside it’s MY turn to pick, White.} Yellow huffed. {How about... a Honda this time? Have we done Honda before?}

“Hmmm. Don’t think so,” Wade said, and brought up a cars website. A few minutes of browsing later, and he was wincing at the selection.

[God damned Alabama.] White muttered. [All they have are minivans and trucks!]

{Or over modded racing crap. Seriously. And no more trucks. I’d like to still feel my ass by the time we hit New York.}

“There’s an old school Jeep Wrangler!” Wade cooed. “That looks like fun!”

Peter came out of the bathroom, and went on tip toe as he tried to peer over Wade’s bicep at the phone. “What looks like fun?”

“Oh! New duds!” Wade smiled down at him. Peter looked so much better in his graphic tee, jeans and flip flops. “Do a spin?”

Peter flushed, heistated, then spun around for Wade.

[Sweet Jesus. He has a serious bubble butt.]

{Hey! He’s a minor White! Keep it clean!}

[I was just looking!]

{I will STAB both of you!}

Wade settled for whistling. “Oh my god, sweetums. I’m gonna have to get a baseball bat to keep the girls offa you.”  

Peter turned the same color as a tomato and played with the hem of his shirt. “You... you really think so?”

“Definitely. Oh! And speaking of hot things-” Wade showed him the ad for the Jeep. “We can take the top off!”

Peter considered. “Umm...”

“We can stand up and fire a rocket launcher from the backseat!” Wade said, bouncing.

Peter frowned. “Do you HAVE a rocket launcher?” he asked, his eyebrows doing the crinkle thing.

“Not on me.”

“Oh,” he sounded disappointed.

“Do you  _ want _ a rocket launcher, baby boy? Because I can totally get you one.”

Peter snorted a giggle. “What would we do with a rocket launcher, Wade?”

[Oh that was just adorable.]

“Fire rockets out of a Jeep course!”

Peter shook his head. “I’m game, I guess,” he said, but he sounded amused about it.

“Sweet! Jeep here we come!”

{Check the kid Wade!}

“Oh right. Come here, pumpkin,” Wade said. Peter stopped in his walk to the truck, and looked back at Wade, confused.

“Come here. You said the guard hurt you honey. I wanna see.”

Peter flushed. “Oh. Um...”

Wade frowned. “Give me your arm Peter,” Wade’s tone was firm and serious now.

Peter flushed harder, and held out his hand. Wade inspected it carefully. “Hmm. I see a small red mark, but-”

“I lied.”

Wade looked up at him.

“I was just trying to get him to let go. I... I lied. I’m fine.”

[He was faking it?]

{Clever boy!}

“Well that was some damn fine acting there, honey buns. You had me fooled.”

“Is that why you were so angry?” Peter asked shyly.

“Of course! I told you I’d keep you, honey. That means you get the full mama bear package.”

Peter beamed up at him, and Wade felt his heart twist. “Thanks Wade,” Peter said softly.

Wade cleared his throat. “Lets go get that Jeep, yeah?”


	11. Alabama VII - The Jeep

Wade parked the truck in a Publix parking lot, and Peter frowned.

“They sell Jeeps at Publix?” he asked skeptically.

Wade laughed. “Fuck no honey buns. But we gotta ditch this truck somewhere. I don’t have the papers to trade it in or sell it. But the dealership isn’t far from here. We’ll walk over, buy the Jeep, and pick up the rest of our stuff before being on our way.”

“That sounds... logical.”

“Yep. Normally I don’t do dealerships, but... I kinda want that Jeep. And they don’t seem to be common around here. So... we’ll just make due, eh?” Wade said, getting out and opening the back passenger door.

“Sure.”

Wade dug around in a duffel bag on the floorboards, and produced another, smaller duffel bag from it. Peter peered over the seat to see, and gasped when Wade unzipped it to reveal a literal duffle bag full of cash.

“OHMYGODWADE!” Peter whispered screamed.

“Calm your tits sugar buns,” Wade chuckled. “Just a bit of emergency cash, yeah?”

“A BIT?” Peter squeaked, his voice breaking. “That’s... like the sort of thing you see in MOVIES Wade! No one does that in real life!” he hissed, and looked around frantically, to see if anyone else was paying attention to them. No one was, of course. It was the middle of the day at a busy Publix. Who cared? Still, his heart was going a million miles an hour. Who the hell carried that much cash?

“Look at me Peter.”

Peter turned to him, wide-eyed. “Don’t freak out okay? It’s fine.” Wade said, his voice firm and final.

Peter swallowed. “Yeah. Sure.” He took a breath. The first one was shaky, but the next one was steady and smooth. “Okay. I’m okay.”

“Good,” Wade said, and counted out some cash. It was all hundreds, and he shoved the resulting bundle in his back pocket. He counted out some twenties, and gave the much smaller bundle to Peter. Peter took it, baffled. Wade zipped up the small duffel, and shoved it back in the bigger duffel, and then shoved the whole turducken under the front seat to be out of sight.

“Umm... Wade?” Peter asked, eyeing the handful of twenties he was holding.

“Some pocket money for you sweetums,” Wade said and smiled at him.

“For me? Really?” Peter squeaked. He’d never had money before.

“Of course! It’s just a little-”

“Thank you Wade!” Peter launched himself over the seat and give Wade a hug.

Wade chuckled. “You’re welcome baby,” he said, then after a moment, gently pried Peter off him. “Let’s go Jeep shopping, eh?”

Peter bounced happily as he followed Wade across the parking lot. He was wearing clothes that fit him, and actual real genuine underwear! And he had money in his pocket! And shoes! Granted, yes, they were cheap flip flops, but it was so nice to not have to worry about burning his feet on the hot asphalt. He wondered what he should buy first. Some gum maybe? Did he even like gum? He couldn’t remember the last time he had gum...

(Calm down Peter. Your moods have been all over the place today. You’re a bit manic right now. Remember what the doctor said about mood swings? Lets not have a meltdown at the dealership, okay?)

Peter froze for a moment, feeling suddenly deflated. “Why do you have to ruin things?” he whispered sadly, because, of course, she was right. But he’d been happy dammit. Actual real happy. And it was kind of creepy how ... human she was being. 

“You okay pumpkin?” Wade asked. He’d stopped, and was looking back at Peter with a concerned look on his face.

Peter plastered a smile on his face. “I’m fine!” he said, and hurried to catch up. But his earlier energy was gone.

Wade gave him a “Hmm...” and searching look before going on. Peter followed, this time making sure that he was walking normally. Or at least... fuck. How do you walk normally again? Did he swing his arms? He couldn’t remember...

(You’re still a bit manic Peter. Deep breaths.)

Peter settled for stuffing his hands in his pockets while he walked. Fortunately his current crisis was solved by them crossing a busy street and arriving at the Dealership With The Jeep. Or at least, at the outside boundary of the Dealership WIth The Jeep. God, the parking lot was HUGE.

They climbed over a chain barrier thing and made the epic trek to the main building, a thing of glass and steel. It had lots of signs that said things like “No money down!” and “50,000 mile drivetrain warranty!”... whatever that meant.

A man with slicked back hair and bad suit greeted them at the door. “Good afternoon sir!” he said, not reacting at all to Wade’s scars, which impressed Peter. “How can I help you today?” he extended a hand, and Wade shook it.

“I saw the ad for the 1998 Jeep,” Wade said. “My boy and I are going on a road trip. And it looks perfect.”

“Oh that sounds amazing! That one just came in a couple of days ago. Let me go get the keys, and we can go look at it.”

5 minutes later they were standing in front of a monstrosity of a Jeep Wrangler TJ. Peter gaped at it. It was so much... cooler in real life than in the picture on Wade’s phone. It was on a raised suspension, and had a wench on the front. A light bar up top and an green camo paint job were icing on the cake. And suddenly, yes... Peter could see himself shooting off a rocket launcher from the back while Wade drove like a madman up front. Or a minigun. He could totally see a way to mount a mini-gun to that bar at the back of the Jeep...

“Now the original owner modified this for off roading, but it is street legal,” the salesman was saying. “He put in a roll cage, and suspension seats with harnesses so it’s even safer than when it came from the factory. And the suspension is less than 3 years old.”

“Why did he sell it?” Wade asked.

“From what I understand his business went under and he just couldn’t keep it anymore,” the man shrugged. “Which is a shame. This is a real sweet ride. It’s great for camping... where are ya’ll going?”

“California,” Wade said. “We plan on visiting some of the National Parks along the way.”

“This is perfect for you then. You want to take a test drive?”

“What you think baby boy? You like it?”

“I love it!” Peter squealed.

“No test drive needed then. We’ll take it,” Wade grinned.

Peter wasn’t sure what he was expecting after that. Maybe just... “Here’s the cash, I’ll take the keys?” But instead what actually happened was a literal pile of paperwork. Peter felt his eyes glaze over after the 5th “And sign here...” while Wade made “Uh huh” noises and signed things in an illegible scribble. He sunk in his seat, and tried not to pout. But ended up sulking.

“Hey kiddo,” the salesman said, looking at him with amused eyes. “This is gonna take a while. Why don’t you head on over and watch some TV, yeah? I think Judith has some water and popcorn if you want.”

Peter perked up. “TV? Where?”

The man chuckled. “Just around the bend,” he said, pointing vaguely in a direction with his pen. “We get Cartoon Network AND Nickelodeon,” he said conspiratorially, as if revealing a big secret.

“Go on, sweetie. I’ll sign the paperwork and come get you when we’re done, yeah?”

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. Thankfully, the TV wasn’t hard to find. Peter sat down on a deserted overstuffed leather couch and started channel surfing. He stopped on Spongebob. He remembered liking Spongebob. 

2 episodes later an older woman with glasses approached him with a small bag of popcorn. 

“You want some popcorn sweetie?” she asked, her voice sugar sweet. 

“Yes please!” Peter said, smiling. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. He was sitting on a couch. Watching Spongebob, and eating popcorn. The only thing he was missing was a beer. He wondered if that lady... Judith? would get him one if he asked... 

His happiness was short lived. A balding man with a potbelly and a greasy shirt sat down heavily next to him and changed the channel.

“Hey!” Peter protested.

“Sorry kid. But the news is on. And grownups get first dibs.”

Peter sputtered, and looked around. But Wade was doing paperwork. Right. Let’s not repeat the Walmart incident. So he shut his mouth and sat there.

“Good evening, this is WSFA 12, news at 5. I’m Mark Bullock,” a white man with brown hair and entirely to much forehead said.

“And I’m Valorie Lawson,” a black woman with nice red shirt sat next to him behind a big desk holding papers. 

“We have breaking news this evening- an amber alert has been issued for a young girl after police say she was kidnapped at gunpoint from a Walmart in Pike County,” Valorie continued. 

Peter frowned. What was the world coming to? A little girl? That was just... awful. Poor thing.

“That’s right Valorie. Shoppers say this happened in broad daylight and in front of multiple families. According to police, backup from several neighboring counties has been called in, and all efforts are being made to find the little girl. Let’s go to WSFA 12 News Reporter Samantha Day, who is live outside the Walmart. Samantha?”

“Thanks Mark,” a brunette wearing a red dress appeared on the screen. What was with reporters wearing red? She was standing in a Walmart parking lot that had yellow “police” tape all over it. 

“According to police, a man entered the Walmart just off of US-231 in Troy, did some shopping, and then grabbed a little girl from a security guard at gunpoint with no warning. The guard says that the little girl was lost, and he was in the process of finding her parents.”

Peter’s frown deepened. Why did this sound... familiar? Come to think of it... that parking lot looked familiar to...

“Has her parents come forward Samantha?” Valorie asked from off-screen.

“No they have not. They believe based on how she was dressed that she was possibly homeless. But that does not change the fact that she was taken at gunpoint by this man-” a blurry still frame of Wade in all of his sweatpanted, bald headed glory appeared on the screen, as he pointed a pistol at the guard. Wade looked like he was about to tear someone to shreds. Peter nearly choked on his popcorn.

“Who police have tentatively identified as 28 year old Wade Wilson, who is also known as the terrorist ‘Deadpool’.”

Wait... Wade was 28? He didn’t seem that old...

(That’s not what’s important here Peter!) Kara scolded him.

“What was a terrorist doing in a Walmart in Troy, Samantha?” Mark asked.

Peter willed himself to not hyperventilate. To be normal. 3 panic attacks in one day... oh please god no.

“We spoke to the cashier, who said that he was buying children’s underwear and...” Samantha checked her notes, “condoms,” she said, and seemed grim about it.

What? When had Wade gotten condoms? He’d been next to him the whole time! 

And.. oh god. Wade had bought condoms. And kidnapped a “young girl.” Oh my god. People were going to think he was a pedo! Shit! 

But wait... did he really buy condoms? Because he’d said that Peter didn’t have to... he’d said... but Peter had offered, hadn’t he? And Wade had said no. He COULD have said yes. But he hadn’t...

Peter bit his lip, stuck with an internal crisis. Just... how well did he know Wade exactly? He’d bought Peter clothes. And shoes. And given him pocket money. And called him pet names... and he’d also gotten him through that panic attack at Denny’s... And... Peter had offered himself just this morning. Hadn’t he? Shit. It seemed like lifetimes ago.

But then again... Wade  _ had _ jumped to his rescue at the Walmart. And he’d said no...

(We do have that $100 he gave us. We could run.)

But all of his newly bought stuff was back in the truck... Shit.

Maybe... maybe they were wrong? After all, he KNEW he wasn’t a girl, and they’d gotten that wrong. And he knew that he hadn’t been kidnapped. At all. So that was wrong to... His gaze turned to where he knew Wade was. 

If they were going to run, they needed to do it soon...

“Police ask you to be on the lookout for a black pickup truck with license plate number...” A stock picture of the make and model of the truck was on the screen, next to a blurry blown up photo of Peter looking freaked out in Wade’s oversized hoodie.

Peter decided. Condoms or no condoms, if push come to shove, Peter could just break Wade’s neck, and take the Jeep. Yeah? Yeah... that sounded like a plan. But first Wade needed to buy the damn Jeep...

(Can you even drive Peter?)

Peter ignored that. That was a problem for Tomorrow Peter. Besides. Driving couldn’t be that hard. Even like old grannies did it everyday. Peter could figure it out. 

He got up, abandoning his popcorn, and tried his best to leisurely stroll as fast as possible back to Wade.

He poked his head into the office. “Hey,” he called. Wade was in the office alone. “Where’s the sales guy?”

Wade looked up from his phone. “He’s processing the money sweetie. What’s up?”

Peter looked around, and closed the door.

“So... we’re on the local news- they’re saying you kidnapped me,” Peter said quietly, slipping into an empty chair.

Wade blinked. “What?”

“They also think I’m a girl. They’re broadcasting the truck and the license plate number- saying it’s an “amber alert”?”  

Wade groaned and face palmed. “Oh fuck me,” he sighed.

“How much longer are we gonna be here?”

Wade sighed. “Not much longer,” he said, sounding grim, “Hold on.”

Wade got up and left the office. “Hey Todd?”

Turns out the hidden turbo button for paperwork is under a “Don’t lose a sale because of a Family Emergency” Scenario. The office staff scrambled to get Wade and Peter out the door with the keys so that Wade could “go meet his wife at the ER”. Peter didn’t need any acting for his anxiousness. He wanted to get out and on the road as quickly as possible. He didn’t quite breathe properly until they were driving out of the parking lot.

“Oh god, that sucked,” Peter moaned.

“You did good kid. Not panicking and all that,” Wade said.

“Well, it helped that I knew they were all wrong. I am NOT a girl. And you didn’t kidnap me.”

“Well... I kinda did kidnap you from Hydra.”

Peter snorted. “Like that counts... hey... we’re passing the Publix with the truck...”

“Yep. We’re gonna have to hump the gear. If we just pull up and transfer stuff over that makes it to easy for the cops to figure out what car we switched to.”

“Hump?”

“It means carry sweetums.”

“Oh. Great.”

It took 3 hours. 3 fucking soul crushing hours before they were back on the road again in the Jeep. First Wade had parked the Jeep in a random apartment complex parking lot literally MILES from the Publix. And then once they’d reached the Publix and unloaded the 4 giant duffel bags that were heavy as fuck, they’d walked in the most ridiculous over the top circuitous route back to the Jeep possible. And Peter had done it all in $2 flip flops.

“Why do you get to wear combat boots?” Peter whined as they finally, FINALLY got on an eastbound highway.

Wade laughed. “Can’t get combat boots at Walmart honey.”

“Ugh.” Peter groaned, and propped his bare feet on the dashboard, wiggling his toes. “I swear we’d better mount a mini gun or something to this Jeep before we hit New York to make it worth all that walking.”

Wade choked. “A mini-gun? Where the hell would we even put it?”

Peter pointed to the rear roll bar. “Back there. Up on top. Just weld on a swivel mount and we’d be good to go.”

Wade laughed. “Oh my god. Are you sure you aren’t actually my kid, baby boy?”

“Fuck if I know. Never met my parents. The surrogate gave birth early and it was to much hassle or something so they gave me away.”

“I’m sorry sweetie.”

“Nothing you can do. Just life. Sucking as usual,” Peter grumbled and shrugged. It was getting dark, and the street lights were starting to turn on. Peter laid back and sighed into his seat. These “suspended’ or whatever seats were really comfy. And before he knew it, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite parts of writing this story is doing research to make sure that the parts that don’t really matter were right. For example, there really is a Walmart off 231 in Troy, Alabama. WSFA is an actual TV station, and their 5 o’clock news broadcast is #1 in the state. Those news anchors? The actual news anchors. Their descriptions are based off their staff pictures on the website. Same for the reporter. 
> 
> The Jeep? I found a 1998 Jeep for sale at dealership in Montgomery, and thought it looked cool. I added the “extras” it had from a youtube video of a guy who did a “how to do an offroad vehicle on a budget video” with a modified 1998 Jeep TJ. (and yes the first thing I thought when I saw the Jeep was “They could totally fire a rocket launcher off the back of that thing!” lol) 
> 
> Also, “bearglove” is an actual real old spice product. Walmart carries it, along with the Herbal Essence Rose Hips. According to a youtube review, bearglove smells like “candied green apples.” Which doesn’t sound bad at all. (I just found the name to hilarious to pass up. Bearglove? Really?? ) They also have Suave in an ocean scent in a light blue bottle. 
> 
> Lastly, people mistaking Peter for a girl is going to be a running theme/gag through this entire story. He’s just to pretty and his hair is to long. Thus the “misgendering” tag. Why is Peter’s hair so long? We’ll find out in (much) later chapters... 
> 
> Next stop is Atlanta!


	12. Atlanta I

It was a little past midnight when Wade pulled into the motel parking lot. They’d only been on the road for a few hours, but Atlanta had seemed like a good stopping point.

[Plus Peter’s asleep. He needs a bed.]

{He looks so adorable!}

He did indeed look adorable. Like an instagram post of a celebrity’s kid and a dog. Only not staged. And missing a dog. Maybe he should get a dog?

[We can barely take care of the kid. Don’t get a dog.]

{Yeah. We did forget to get him dinner.}

Ah... shit. They were right.

“It’s okay. We’ll just stuff him silly at breakfast tomorrow. It’ll work out.”

[Just hurry up. Before Peter wakes up.]

“I’m working on it!” Wade said, “Sheesh! Give a guy a minute to find his wallet.”

He dug some more cash out of the cash duffel, and made his way to the front desk. He took a breath before he opened the door. “Okay Wade. Let’s not get pepper sprayed this time,” he muttered to himself.

A mousy brunette in her early twenties was reading a book behind the front desk. It looked like a trashy romance novel. She was even a bit cute, what with her messy bun with bobby pins sticking out all over the place and a rumpled rayon uniform.

“Hey there,” Wade said with maximum friendliness, and a thousand watt smile. “Can I get a room, Miss...” he read her name tag with a bit of a squint, “Karen?”  

She jumped a bit, and when she looked up, her face paled when she saw his scars. Wade kept his smile, but braced himself for either a thrown book or chair or... please just not mace this time.

But she was a freezer, and just sat there staring at him for a minute. Wade stood there patiently. People who froze were good. They were less likely to freak once they’d had a minute to process.

“Karen?” he prompted gently.  

“What? Oh... oh my goodness! Of course... I’m so sorry..” she got up, and scrambled to the computer. He noticed that her hands shook a bit.

“How can I help you sir?” her voice didn’t shake at all once she’d gotten into position  behind the computer. Impressive.

“I’d like a room for tonight. Two beds,” Wade held up two fingers. Sometimes mime helped.

She flinched. “I’m very sorry... but we’re out of double beds tonight. We do have rooms with a single King...” and there was the voice shake. “I have one with a nice view of the pool if you’d like,” she finished, with an “oh god, please don’t shoot me” smile plastered on her face.

Shit. He didn’t think Peter would want to share a bed.

“You have any like... cots?”

“I’m so sorry sir, but no,” she squeaked, the smile growing wider and more terrified.

Wade held back a wince.

{Looks like we’re sleeping on the floor tonight.}

[What? Why? Sharing is caring!]

{Peter gets his own bed. Period.}

“It’s fine,” he said, putting a smile back on. “I’ll take it.”

He paid twice the amount she quoted him, and told her to keep the change. She’d earned the tip just for not macing him, if nothing else. He left with a keycard and bounce in his step. This day just might not end with horrible screaming after all.

He had to hump the gear up a flight of steps, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. And the room, though basic, was clean. Well. Cleaner than he was used to. He wouldn’t take a blacklight to that comforter though, but hey. The carpet might not even give him a rash from sleeping on it.

Now to get Peter, who was still passed out in the passenger seat.

“Hey sweetums. We’re here,” Wade murmored, and shook the teenager.

“Wha?” Peter groaned, and blinked at him.

{He’s so CUTE!} Yellow squealed.

“We’re at a motel honey bun. You wanna sleep in a bed?”

Peter looked up at him, his eyes completely unfocused. “Waz? A bed?”

“Yep.”

“Ugh... 5 more minutes Dad....” Peter grumbled, and closed his eyes.

Wade’s heart froze and twisted as yet another whaling harpoon got stabbed right into his heart.  _ How does he do that? _

[Wait. What?]

{Did he just call us “Dad”? Again?}

[He’s half asleep. It doesn’t count.]

{But he called us that at the Walmart earlier.}

“He’s under like a million tons of stress. He’s just out of it.”

He shook Peter again. “Come on sweet pea.”

Peter didn’t so much as stir.

[Well, now what?]

After 5 minutes, Wade gave up and threw Peter over his shoulder and just carried him to the room. Peter just whined a bit in his sleep.

{Oh god. We shouldn’t have skipped dinner. He weighs nothing!}

[You gotta take better care of him Idiot!]

“I know I know!” Wade grumbled, and laid Peter down on the bed. The kid instantly curled into a ball and started snoring. “Brat,” Wade snorted affectionately, then put him under the covers.

He kicked off his boots and sat on the bed. Just for a minute. God he was tired. And the bed wasn’t bad. He laid down on it. Just to try it. For just a minute. And then he’d lay down on the floor. Scout’s Honor and all that.

He woke up with the sun in his face. He blinked, and moved to stretch, but there was something pressed against his chest... he froze. And sure enough there was Peter, curled up against him. He had some of the fabric of Wade’s hoodie scrunched up in one of his fists, and his face was pressed into one of Wade’s pecs. He was snoring.

{What’s happening?} Yellow yawned.

[Idiot fell asleep on the bed instead of on the floor.] White was outraged.

“Shut up,” Wade whispered. He could smell Peter’s shampoo from yesterday. Feel his warmth against him. His free hand found itself gently touching Peter’s soft hair.

[Stop being a pervert!]

Peter sighed in his sleep, and tried to bury himself further into Wade’s chest.

And Wade... just laid there. Just for a minute. Etching this moment into his memory.

{He’s going to freak out if he wakes up like this. You should get up first.}

Yellow was right. He really should... but another minute wouldn’t hurt anything. Right?

He lasted for five, before the boxes threatened mutiny if he didn’t get up.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, and gently pried Peter off him before heading for the shower.

Showering was an intensive process for Wade. First he had to use special ph-neutral soap, followed by a scent-free lotion that was stupid expensive and came in tiny bottles. And it was a bitch to get proper coverage between his shoulder blades. He followed it all with a light dusting of baby powder. Which was great for his skin, but always left a fine layer of baby powder all over the shower. The maids would bitch about it later, no doubt. And the process always took FOREVER.

He was brushing his teeth in just his boxers when he heard what sounded like... bones cracking? He frowned. That was weird. Was he hallucinating? He resumed brushing, only for the cracking to happen again, and louder this time.

{I heard that to.}

[Is Peter up yet?]

Wade poked his head out of the bathroom, and damn near dropped his toothbrush.

Peter was... was...

{Is his... ass touching his face?}

[How is he doing that? WHY is he doing that?]

{Oh my god. Elbows don’t bend that way! THEY DON’T BEND THAT WAY!!}

The human pretzel on the bed twisted in a way that should really really really not be possible for an alive human being... and grunted when more bones cracked.

{Make him stop! He’s gonna snap himself in half!}

“Peter?” Wade asked softly, a hint of fear in his voice.

The human pretzel froze, then quickly detangled itself into proper human shape.

“Oh... um...” Peter was the color of a tomato again.

“Are you alright pumpkin?” Wade’s voice was hesitant and full of concern.

“I’m fine! I just... had some kinks to get out,” Peter said, avoiding Wade’s gaze.

Wade looked at him skeptically for a minute. “Alright. So long as you didn’t hurt yourself sweetie.”

“I didn’t! I... I’m just super bendy.”

“Well I SAW that... but... nevermind,” Wade shook his head. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“We’ll go somewhere after we check out. Be thinking about where you want to go. I’ll be out in a minute, eh?”

After that it was just... domestic bliss. Wade got out the bathroom and packed while Peter had a quick shower. It was a quiet time, since Peter apparently was even less of a morning person than Wade was.

“Go put the stuff in the car, Petey,” Wade said. “I’ll go check out.”

Peter grumbled, but started to grab the gear as Wade went down to front desk.

It was early, with an hour or so left until check out time, but there was already a line of people waiting to turn in their keys. Wade double checked that his hood was up and slid on a pair of large sunglasses. No need to start a panic. 

There was a cop sitting at a table next to the breakfast buffet, sipping on his coffee. The cop seemed... stiff. But it was morning. And he knew his skin was a bit shocking, so he let it slide. Besides... the amber alert was in Alabama. And even if they tracked him to the dealership he’d told them they were going to California.... Still... he watched the cop out of the corner of his eye.  

Peter barged into the reception area. “There’s a waffle house just down the street! I want to go there!”

Wade smiled down at Peter. “Whatever you want pumpkin.”

Peter bounced slightly in excitement. “Patience!” Wade scolded, chuckling.    

“They’ll have eggs, right?”

“Yes, sweetie. You can have all the eggs you want.”

“Yes!” it was quiet, but full of triumph.

{It’s so easy to make this kid happy.}

[It’s pathetic almost.]

{You take that back! You take that back now!}

[I said ‘almost’! I didn’t mean it!]

It was Wade’s turn. “You still on shift Karen?” He asked pleasantly. It was a struggle what with the boxes trying to strangle each other in the back of his head. But he managed. The mousy brunette’s smile froze slightly. “I... the morning girl called in sick.”

“Sorry to hear that. We’re checking out today.”  

He left the key, signed all the adult things, and left a tip, “So you can get yourself something nice when you finally get off darlin’.”

He looked for the cop as they were leaving, but he was gone.

_ Huh. _

The boxes were too busy arguing to comment.

20 minutes later they were feasting.

Peter had ordered 5 eggs, 3 waffles and everything possible in a double order of  hashbrowns (except mushrooms) and 3 sausages. Wade had also ordered waffles and eggs, but added in biscuits, ham and coffee. Their plunder threatened to spill off the booth’s table.

“They need bigger tables,” Peter whined, “How is anyone supposed to eat when all of the plates are piled on top of each other?”

“Not everyone is a growing boy sweetie!” Wade laughed. “Most people usually only get like one waffle and a couple of eggs and call it a day.”

Peter made a face. “How do they not starve to death?”

“I think most people would be more concerned about gaining weight, pumpkin.”

“What?” Peter frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You see that waitress over there?” Wade gestured at a skinny blonde manning the waffle station.

“Yeah?” Peter asked, baffled.

“This,” Wade waved at Peter’s spread, “would feed her for like a week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Wade said, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

{If he eats all that... he must have one hell of healing factor.}

[That just means our Petey is special!]

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Peter said incredulously.

“Hey,” Wade said, suddenly serious. “I might joke around and stuff pumpkin, but one thing I will NEVER do is lie you, eh?”

Peter blinked, then flushed. “Okay Wade.”

Wade studied him for minute before nodding. “Eat your sausage sweetums. Man cannot live on carbs alone and all that.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“So... we are in Atlanta right now- which means we have a very important choice ahead of us,” Wade said.

“Hmm?”

“We can go further east, until we hit the ocean and then go north, and hit up every seafood restaurant we can find. OR we can go north now, and hit the mountains and the national parks. What do you wanna do, Petey?”

Peter considered as he swallowed his eggs. “Can we go in the ocean?”

Wade shook his head. “I don’t do sand sweetheart. I can stay in the hotel and wave at you from the balcony while you swim, but that’d be about it.”

Peter scrunched up his nose, and thought. “Mountains then.”

Wade nodded, and pulled out his smartphone. “Camping or just like day hike?”

“We can go camping?” Peter sounded excited.

“Sure.”

“We don’t have a tent, though.”

“There’s like a million camping stores between here and the National Parks sweetie.”

Peter beamed at Wade. “I wanna go camping and sleep outside!”   

“Well then we’ll go camping tonight,” Wade grinned.

{I thought we hated camping.}

[Shut up! I want to roast marshmallows with Peter! And tell scary stories!]

{But there will be like mosquitoes. And sleeping on the floor. And...}

[Overruled! Look at his face!]

Wade did. Peter was grinning with “rockefeller christmas tree” level of happy all over his face. It made Wade’s heart hurt. God, this kid...

{Fine. But I want like a really sweet sleeping bag.... Why are there like 20 cop cars out there?}

Wade blinked, and looked up. And there weren’t 20 cop cars, but there were at least 4 that he could see. He frowned, and turned to look out the other side of the restaurant's windows. No other cop cars in the parking lot... but there WERE two more in the parking lot across the street... Shit.

[Why did you only pack the pistol? We can’t have a police shootout with just a pistol!]

{We’re not going to have a shootout with anyone! What if Peter got hurt?}

[Shit. This is why I hate escort missions!]

Wade looked at Peter, who was staring off into the distance, joy gone.

“You okay Petey?”

[Shit. Is he having another panic attack?]

“We... need to go Wade.”

“What’s wrong?”

Peter blinked at him. “Just... we need to go. Something’s wrong.”

{How does he know? Are you showing some sort of stupid face, Idiot?}

“There are... some cop cars outside, sweetie,” Wade admitted. “They might not be for us... but... I’ll buy you some more waffles in South Carolina, eh?”

Peter didn’t even look. “They’re for us.”

Deadpool set his lips. “Then let’s go then,” he said and threw a couple of hundreds on the table.

[Never skip paying the waitress!]

Wade pulled Peter close as they exited the Waffle House, putting himself between Peter and where the cops most likely were. The Jeep was all the way on the other side of the parking lot. Because when had his life ever been easy?

[Go go go go.]

{Come on Idiot! We can off-road in that thing if we can just get to it!}

When was the last time he put gas in it?

[We’re buying a giant fuel can as we get out of this mess.]

A freaking swarm of cops in tactical gear came out the literal bushes, all of them with guns pointed at Wade.

“Freeze!”

Wade and Peter froze.

[Shoot them!]

{Get Peter to freakin cover!}

“Step away from the girl Deadpool!” someone shouted.

Peter whined and held on to Wade’s hand with a death grip.

Wade snarled, reached for his pistol in the back of his waistband... and the world went black.


	13. Atlanta II - The Waffle House Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned there would be shoot outs in the summary yes? Well, here we are. Warnings: Dark!Peter, death, calling cops "pigs", and general violence.

Peter always thought hostage situations involved bull horns. Negotiation, and pizza. Demands of helicopters, small bills, etc. But the Georgia police apparently didn’t go to that school, or had missed those movies. They just straight up shot Wade in the head with no warning.  

Peter stood frozen as the shot rang out, and Wade suddenly slumped over onto the dirty asphalt of the Waffle House parking lot.

And just like that, Wade was dead. He’d seen enough head shots in his life to know that Wade was gone. The best thing that had ever happened to him. Gone.

He stood and shook, feeling lost and adrift. Empty.

Someone ran up to him, and started to drag him away, but Peter’s eyes were wide and unfocused and unseeing and he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

He blinked, and found himself sitting on the back bumper of an ambulance with a blanket around him.

(Heads up Peter!) Kara was shouting at him. Why was she shouting? He winced.

“What?” he said.

A policewoman sitting next to him started talking the same time Kara did.

(You need to get away!)

Oh. Right. He blinked at the police woman. She was middling age. She looked kind, and was smiling at him.

“... safe now sweetie. We’re going to take you home okay? What’s your name?”

Peter frowned. Only Wade got to call him that. Not some bitch in blue.

“Why did you shoot him?” he found himself asking. His voice was flat.

The woman blinked, not expecting that.

“To keep you safe honey. He was going for a gun-”

“He was my dad. We were going to go camping. He didn’t do anything. Why did you shoot my dad?” Peter’s voice was getting louder, more hysterical.  

“He was a terrorist-” the woman didn’t get any further. Peter gently reached down to her side, pulled her gun, and shot her in the gut. She went down screaming. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did deserve to suffer. Only Wade got to call him sweetie.

He was beyond angry now. He in fact so beyond angry he was clear on the other side. Where everything is slow and clear. And Every Single One of these fuckers in blue was gonna die.

He got two headshots in, before someone figured out that the gunfire was coming from the ambulance.  

Several cops aimed at him from behind their cars. Cowards.

“Drop the gun honey-”

Peter blinked at them.

“You killed my dad,” he said, his voice calm and carrying. “Do you really think I’d let you fuckers live after that?”

“You don’t have to do this sweetheart-”

“No I don’t. But I WANT to,” Peter said, and shot another cop.

Peter’s sixth sense went off, and he leaned to the left. The bullet missed his head by a couple of inches.

Jesus Christ. That had been a head shot. Whoever that sniper was wasn’t fucking around.

“STOP SNIPING YOU COWARDS!” he roared.

He dodged another bullet- this time by someone with shittier aim. That guy got a bullet in his brain for his troubles.

(Behind you!)

Two more men went down. Peter shot one of them 5 times just because. More men fell after that. Peter didn’t really keep track. He saw a pig in blue, and shot a pig in blue. Simple.

The last one played a stupid cat and mouse game around a minivan. Peter chased him around the damn thing twice before he just flipped the whole thing over onto the cop. The pig screamed a bit before going quiet.

“Put down your weapon!” Now there was a bull horn. The cops were all down, groaning or still.

Peter turned towards the sound. A man and a woman stood outside a plain panel van at the end of the parking lot. They wore cheap suits. For some reason the man with the bullhorn didn’t seem worried.

Peter took a step and fired at the man.

Click.

He frowned.

Click.

(Out of ammo Peter.)

Shit.

Peter threw the gun down. He didn’t need one. He’d just beat them to death. He walked over, grabbed a pole with a “Handicap Parking” sign on it and yanked it out of the concrete one handed.

He started walking.

“You fuckers killed my dad!” he roared, waving his pole. “And now I’m gonna take your fucking heads!”

“The police did that. We didn’t. We just want to talk. Just put down the sign, okay?”

Peter narrowed his eyes and sniffed. He didn’t smell any fear. Why didn’t he smell any fear? The police had been afraid... it made him hesitate. What did they know that he didn’t?

He stopped, but didn’t drop the sign.

“Where’s the trap?” he muttered.

(I don’t see one Peter. It looks like just two people standing there.)

“There’s no trap kid. Just want to talk,” the guy had put the megaphone down and was now just talking loudly.  

Peter took a step back. How good was their hearing?

(They haven’t made any threats... but they are stalling. How long before more cops come?)

Peter’s eyes strayed to the Jeep for a half second. He could just call it day, ya know? And take off. Maybe. But the only thing he’d ever driven was a tank, and the Jeep... well, it wasn’t a tank.

He gripped the sign. Okay then. Fuck it. They were gonna die to. And then he’d.... No. Just focus on the now. Killing them...

A voice behind him made him freeze.

“Holy shitballs. Baby boy. Did you do all this?!”

Peter blinked, and turned. And there was Wade. Standing there. He had some blood on his face and hoodie, but he was standing there. Talking.

“Daddy?” he whispered. Oh god. Was he hallucinating?

“Right here sweetie. Come here.” Wade opened his arms.

Peter dropped the sign pole and ran into Wade hard enough to make him stagger.

“Ough... easy there sweetums. Don’t break my ribs.”

“They shot you in the head!” Peter wailed.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” Wade said, and smoothed Peter’s hair. “It’s okay honey bun. I’m all better now.”

Peter cried. He couldn’t help it. Tears just came, and he couldn’t make them stop. And it was ugly crying too, with snot and hiccups and broken sobs.

“Shh....” Wade patted him on the back, and rocked him a bit from side to side.

They stood there for a moment, then “We’ve got to get moving sweetie before more cops come, yeah?”

Peter nodded into Wade’s chest, still unable to speak.

“Come on.” Wade took them to the car, and helped Peter in. He even buckled him in since Peter’s hands were starting to shake from the adrenaline let down.  

“I’ll be just a minute sweetie, yeah?”

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was broken and small.

“Good boy.” Wade gently kissed Peter’s forehead and left.

Peter tried to make himself relax. It was going to be okay. Wade would take care of it. Wade would take care of everything.


	14. Atlanta III

Wade woke up with a headache laying on dirty asphalt. It wasn't the worst place he’d come back at. But... there was something wrong. Something he had to do. And for another thing, someone was shouting.  Something about... ‘taking heads’?

[That sounds like fun. You should get up.]

{Peter! Where’s Peter!?}

That got him up. He had to find Peter- he blinked as he took in his surroundings. Dead or dying cops were sprawled everywhere. A minivan was overturned, with a pool of blood draining from underneath it... and there was Peter-

[Is that... a handicap parking sign? He’s holding it like a bat!]

{Where did he GET it?}

That question was answered when he looked to his left and found a hole in the ground where the sign had once been.

[Holy shit. He totally just ripped that sign out of ground!]

{Did he overturn the car to?}

Wade got to his feet. “Holy shitballs. Baby Boy, did you do all this?!”

Peter froze in mid threatening wave of his sign post, and turned like a man possessed.

“Daddy?” Peter whispered.

[Okay. That’s the third time now. Either he means it or something’s wrong with his head.]

{Answer him Idiot!}

Wade didn’t even have to think- the answer just dropped from his lips like it was the most natural thing ever.  “Right here sweetie. Come here.” Wade opened his arms.

Peter dropped the sign post and ran into Wade hard enough to make him stagger.

“Ough... easy there sweetums. Don’t break my ribs.”

“They shot you in the head!” Peter wailed.

[He sounds so young...]

{He IS young. He’s a baby! Make him feel better already Idiot!}

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Wade said, and smoothed Peter’s hair. “It’s okay honey bun. I’m all better now.”

Peter cried. It was all snot and hiccups and ugly sobbing. And there went another harpoon into his heart. At this rate he’d wind up with more harpoons than heart.

“Shh....” Wade patted him on the back, and rocked him a bit from side to side.

He looked around as he held a sobbing Peter. Peter had been threatening something... ah. The weird panel van. The cheap suits. The careful distance. Yep, those were the SHIELD agents. Oh, was he going to have words with them...

“We’ve got to get moving sweetie before more cops come, yeah?” Wade kept his voice light.

Peter nodded into Wade’s chest.

“Come on.” Wade took them to the car, and looked down at a shaking Peter.

[Is he going into shock? Is he hurt?]

{It’s the adrenaline probably. Coming down sucks balls.}

Wade ended up buckling Peter in like he was a 5 year old- his poor baby’s hands were shaking. Definitely an adrenaline come down.

“I’ll be just a minute sweetie, yeah?”

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was broken and small.

“Good boy.” Wade gently kissed Peter’s forehead and left.

Wade stepped away, and took a breath. Right. Time for his rage face. It wasn’t hard to find. He stormed over to the suits by the van.

“What. The. Fuck.” he snarled at them. Deadpool recognized the man in the suit. Dave. Or Dove. Or Donald. D something. Whatever. The woman was new. He could damn near smell her inexperience.

{Jesus, did she remember to cut the tags off that suit?}

[A baby SHIELD agent, and she’s not even cute. What a waste.]

Donovan raised his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “We never touched the kid Deadpool,” he said.

“Like I give a shit! Did you SEE my baby crying? What the hell?!”

“We advised the police to not go after you, but...”

“Oh, am I supposed to thank you for that? What if he’d gotten hurt? It’s bad enough I just DIED in front of him!” Deadpool hissed.

“He seemed more than able to take care of himself if you ask me,” Daniel said. He sounded like he thought he was making a valid point. Ass.

“If even one hair on his head is EVER, and I mean, EVER even TOUCHED, I swear I will shove that precious helicarrier so far up your stupid Pirate King’s ass-”

“We’re sorry Deadpool. We’ll make sure it won’t happen again. We didn’t know you had a child,” the woman spoke up. She sounded like she was trying to be soothing, but it came off snobbish instead.

Deadpool stared at her for a minute through narrowed eyes. Considering.

{I don’t like that. He’s not OUR kid.}

[Take that back! Peter is ours!]

{But they don’t need to know that.}

[They won’t fuck with him if they think he’s our kid though.]

{They’ll use it against us. You know they will.}

[What have they NOT used against us?]

{But that wasn’t Peter!}

“You get these cops off my ass, and I’ll consider us even. If you don’t I’ll kill every pig in blue in Georgia if I have to. My baby’s staying with ME, you understand?”

“How about we get the cops to go away, and we won’t take the kid into custody and you’ll owe us a favor,” the clearly suicidal woman said.

Deadpool snarled, and put his hand on his gun. “You even LOOK at him-”

“We’ll work out the details of who owes who later, yes? And we would never dream of taking him. We would just talk to him,” Dean interrupted, waving more peace hands.

“I’ll make sure you won’t be bothered again,” Derek continued. “But you’d better get going. You’ve got another 3 minutes before more of them arrive, and I’ll be of limited help if there’s a car chase in progress.”

Deadpool held the woman’s gaze for another minute, staring her down.

[He’s right. We need to get moving.]

{Get Peter out of here Idiot!}

“Fine. But you’re on thin fucking ice lady,” Deadpool snarled, and stomped off to the Jeep.

**********************************************************

“Well,” Liam said, as he watched Deadpool speed away in a tricked out Jeep. “You’re going to get reassigned when we get back.”

Sarah sputtered. “What? Why?”

“I told you to watch. And not talk. And what you did was the opposite of that. Also you almost got us killed,” Liam’s voice was calm and matter of fact.

“What, you mean all that barking he just did? Please. I don’t know why you’re so scared of him.”

“I’ve been Deadpool’s handler for SHIELD for nearly 4 years now. I’ve seen him in all sorts of moods. And that- I’ve never seen that. He wasn’t in costume. He didn’t crack a single joke, not even a pun. No funny voices. Didn’t even make fun of my suit. He ALWAYS makes fun of my suits.”

“He also just got shot in the head-”

“And you threatened to take his kid. A kid we didn’t even know existed until just now. A kid he is clearly _very_ protective of.”

“He’s just a serial killer-” Sarah said dismissively.

“A MUTANT serial killer that can’t die. And if that kid really IS his- god knows if has the same mutation. And you saw what the kid did. He just slaughtered 15 armored police like... nothing. No. You don’t provoke that unless you absolutely have to. You manage it. You direct it. But you just straight up threatened him- for _no reason_. You don’t DO that.” Liam shook his head. “You’re not ready. Not for Deadpool anyway. I’ll make the arrangements when we get back.”

Sarah scowled at him, and made to reply- but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the sound of police sirens.

“And now... let’s convince the Atlanta police to stand down,” Liam gave her a humorless smile. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

She sighed, and followed him towards the clearly angry police officers. She really should have gone for the FBI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, it's been fun but my spring break has come to an end. Don't worry- I've still got like 10+ more chapters in google docs (and counting!), but they need to be edited and proof-read and tweaked and all that jazz. 
> 
> And yes, I know- I've spoiled ya'll rotten with my many updates. But I've got lesson plans to make and Easter dinner to eat and I'm back in my classroom on Tuesday... So my next chapter probably won't be up until next Friday at the soonest. 
> 
> Happy Easter everyone!


	15. Atlanta IV - Daddy

Wade was gone for entirely to long for Peter’s peace of mind. He sighed with relief when Wade got in the Jeep. Wade didn’t even bother to buckle up- he just started it up, and backed up over a median. The Jeep swayed as it climbed over the concrete barrier like it was nothing, and then they were off.

Peter watched Wade, and sniffled miserably. Wade wasn’t talking. He hadn’t spoken since he’d gotten into the Jeep, and worst of all, he seemed angry. Was... was he mad at Peter? He had made a big mess and killed all those people...

But, Wade was known for killing people, yeah? That’s practically the first thing Kara had ever told him about Wade. So, it couldn’t be that, right? 

But... Wade was obviously angry. And Peter had gone and called him “Daddy” again. He couldn’t even explain that. And he’d shouted at the cops about how they’d “killed his dad.” Seriously, what was wrong with him? Maybe that was why he was pissed?

Peter buried his face in his hands. He was red as a tomato again, he could feel it.

“Oh my god...”  he murmured. Where were all the giant pits when you needed one? He couldn’t throw himself in one and find relief in death if there weren’t any freaking pits around...

“You okay baby boy?” Wade’s voice sounded strained.

“I...” Peter’s voice failed him. He closed his eyes. He was still shaking. Why was he still shaking?

“Just focus on breathing, yeah? We’ll hit Chattanooga in a couple of hours. We’re gonna crash there for a while, eh?”

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was shaky.

“There’s a Marriott there. I’ve been there before. It’s like a palace. We’ll be laying low in style sweetums. You’ll like it.”

“Okay Wade,” Peter said hesitantly. Wade at least didn’t sound angry...  but...

Wade grabbed his hand. “It’ll be okay honey. I’ve taken care of it.”

“Okay.” Peter said, and managed a small smile at Wade.

They drove in silence for a moment.

“Did... you kill the people by the van?” Peter asked.

“What, the suits?”

“Yeah.”

“No. They’re SHIELD honey. They can’t work for us if they’re dead.”

“They... work for you?”

Wade sighed. “It’s... complicated. I do work for them sometimes. And I can call in favors every now and then. Like, they can make the police back off.”

Peter frowned. “I.. how do they do that?”

Wade shrugged. “Sorry honey. I can’t really do a proper info dump and drive at the same time. Why don’t we save the questions for the hotel, eh?”

“Okay,” Peter said, chewing on his lower lip. Shit. They worked for Wade...

“I... I may have threatened to take their heads off,” Peter offered. “I’m sorry... I ... I didn’t know...”

Wade laughed. “That’s okay sweetie. Just don’t make it a habit, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Wade drove in silence for a minute before he turned the radio on to some pop music. Peter sighed, leaned back in his seat, and looked out the window. He swore he’d never get tired of looking at the open sky. This was the longest he’d ever been outside he could remember. Not even before he’d been sold to Hydra had he’d seen so much sky.

After a while, Wade started singing along to the music. Peter’s smile was small, but it was there. He could get used to this.

Time passed, and Peter tried to close his eyes. He was so tired, and felt like he’d just stomped around for 3 hours in $2 flip flops all over again. But that had been yesterday. And all he’d done today was kill some people...   


Wait. 

He’d killed some people. Without orders. A vision of that cop lady going down screaming after he’d shot her in the gut filled his mind. He winced. 

But they’d shot Wade... and that lady had called him “sweetie.” 

Okay, that last part was a bit bullshit, but they’d SHOT WADE. 

And yet... Wade was driving the car. Right?

Peter opened an eye and snuck a glance. Yep. That was Wade. Driving. He even had blood splatter on his hoodie. 

“Wade?” he asked softly. Wade stopped singing, and turned down the radio.

“What’s wrong baby?” 

“I... am I dreaming?” 

“No sweetheart.”

“But... they... they shot you in the head. I saw it.”

“Yes. Yes they did. I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“So... I am hallucinating. Because you’re dead right now.” Peter was almost proud of how calm his voice was. Not even 1% of his freak out was leaking. 

Wade grimaced. “I did die, honey. But... I got better, eh?” 

Peter stared at him. “You... you got better.” More flat monotone.

“Yes. I have this healing ability. It means that I can’t die.” 

“But you did just die.”

“Um... I can’t stay dead might be more accurate. It’s okay honey. It really is. I’m fine now. Promise!” Wade said, his voice chipper. To chipper. 

Peter looked around. What else wasn’t real? Everything else seemed to be in order. The Jeep was just as he remembered. 

He looked at his hands, and found the small scar on the back of his left hand, just where it had always been. He eyed it suspiciously, and ran a finger over it. 

“You okay sweetheart?” Not-Wade asked. 

Peter turned and looked blankly at Not-Wade. He wondered who it was really. Or if he was just... sitting somewhere, imagining all of this while drooling? He’d done that before when they’d put him on acid to “see what it did.” Everything had seemed so real... until it was too real and all he wanted was for the snakes to stop coming out of the walls. 

And now he was eyeing the air vents suspiciously. 

But... that couldn’t be right. He wasn’t on anything. Was he? He tried to remember if he’d felt the sting of a needle or dart in the last few hours. He would have noticed that... right? 

There was a whoosh of air as his door opened, and Wade was suddenly there, holding his hands, and another hand making him look Wade in the face. 

“Hey, its okay. Look at me, honey. You got to breathe sweetie. Please breathe,” Wade pleaded. 

Peter blinked, and took a much needed breath. They were stopped at the side of the road, with cars screaming by to the left of the Jeep. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. 

“I swear I’m real honey. I promise,” Wade said, his voice shaking. He gave Peter a kiss on the forehead. “I’m here. I’m here.” He leaned his forehead against Peter’s, and just held it there, his hand now holding Peter’s neck, his thumb rubbing against Peter’s cheek. 

“Wade?” Peter asked, his voice ruined. Why did he sound like death? 

“I’m here. Promise. Daddy’s here.” 

Peter closed his eyes. He could smell Wade. The leather was gone, but the gunpowder wasn’t. And there was syrup and coffee from this morning. And blood. 

“I’m sorry sweetie. I’m so sorry. But it’s okay. I can’t die. I swear.” 

Peter shook and cried. He couldn’t stop it. Not even if they’d shocked him with that damn collar could he have stopped. The tears just came and came and came. And Wade held him. Even when Peter started to puke, Wade just moved out the way and held Peter’s hair, and rubbed his back while babbling soft nonsense. About how awesome Peter was. How proud Wade was of him. How everything was real. 

Eventually puking gave way to dry heaving. Then that stopped and gave way to small hiccups. Wade gave him a water bottle. 

“Swish and spit pumpkin,” he said firmly. Peter obeyed. He liked that tone. Wade knew what to do. Even when Peter was falling apart, Wade knew what to do. It was more than reassuring. It was a damn miracle. 

“Feeling better?” Wade asked.

Peter nodded.

“Where are we?” Wade asked, firmly but kindly. 

Peter looked around. “We’re... on the side of the highway?”

“Do you know where we’re going?” 

Peter frowned, thinking. “South Carolina?” 

“Close. We were going to go there, but I changed plans. We’re going to Chattanooga.” 

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Chattanooga? That’s such a stupid name.” he said tiredly. 

Wade chuckled. “It is a bit strange. But it’s in Tennessee, so... “ Wade shrugged, then used a gentle hand to turn Peter’s face to Wade’s.

“What’s my name pumpkin? Do you still think I’m not real?” 

“Wade,” Peter said, and licked his dry lips. “I... I think you’re real.” 

“Think or know?” 

“Know. I know you’re real.” 

“Good boy,” Wade said, and kissed Peter’s forehead. It was a long and gentle kiss, and Peter melted. 

“Daddy,” Peter whimpered. 

“Damn right I’m your Daddy. You’re my Baby Boy, you hear me?” Wade growled into Peter’s hair. “I’m gonna keep you safe pumpkin. Gonna put you in my pocket and keep you for forever.” 

It was all so damn protective. Caring. When had anyone given a single shit about him? Peter couldn’t remember. He sighed, and moved down so he was resting against Wade’s chest. Wade hugged him tight. This was... intoxicating. Even better than Vodka. Better than when he’d jerked off for the first time. Just... better. 

After a while Wade kissed the top of his head. “We need to get going pumpkin, eh? I’m gonna take us to a kick ass hotel so we can relax for a couple of days, eh? It has a pool and these amazing bathtubs you can damn near drown in.” 

Peter sniffed and giggled softly. That did sound amazing. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t fuss when Wade just picked him up and put him back into the Jeep and buckled him in like a child. It was... nice to be taken care of. 

“Try to sleep a bit sweetie. You’ve had a rough day,” Wade said, his face full of concern, as he gently palmed Peter’s face. 

“Okay,” Peter said softly, leaning into the touch. 

Wade gave him a soft smile, one last kiss on the forehead, and then vanished, closing Peter’s door. 

A few seconds later he was in the driver’s seat, and there was the soft clicking noise of the turn signal. 

Peter relaxed. Wade would keep him safe. He was asleep before they passed the next mile marker. 


	16. Road I

[Well, that was just awful.] White said, as Wade drove down the highway.

{Of course it was awful! Peter thought we’d died! For real! He was upset!} Yellow said.

[Not sure why. He’s only known us for less than 2 days.] 

{He’s our Peter. Of course he would be upset!} 

Wade hesitated, and glanced down at the sleeping Peter. On the one hand, White did have a point. Not that he’d ever tell White that, but... their relationship seemed to be going at Warp 10 speeds. If anyone had told him last week he’d be having rage fits at SHIELD agents over a young boy who called him “daddy” he would have pissed himself laughing. 

But now... well. It was as if a new star had entered the solar system that was the pitiful shambles of his life. And everything had just immediately snapped into new orbits around the boy. 

It was awful. And wonderful. And mystifying. And Wade would 100% skin anyone alive who so much as frowned at the kid. HIS kid. Who knew a human could feel so many emotions all at the same time? And about just one person? 

This had happened before, he remembered suddenly. She’d been his shining star. Right up until-

{SHUT UP!} 

[Don’t talk about her! You know what happens when you remember!] 

Right. 

Right.  Focus on Peter. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes like he had with- 

{I will STAB you!} 

Right. Peter. Who was sleeping in the car next to him. He’d fallen asleep around Wade. When was the last time that had happened? Maybe Logan? But Logan didn’t really count... not really. 

_ What the fuck is my life right now?  _

[You do realize that we are the WORST thing for him.] White offered. 

{Did you see what he did to those cops? I can’t see him NOT winding up in a lab somewhere if we’re not with him! If it’s not Hydra it would be fucking SHIELD.} 

And that... that point almost stopped his heart. Peter in a lab? Oh. Fuck no. 

Wade took a breath, and let it out slowly, willing himself to calm down. 

Nope. Peter was stuck with him. 

He drove the rest of the way to Chattanooga in silence, not willing to risk waking the precious boy beside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd post on Friday, but I got avengers tickets and work on Friday. So happy early Friday!


	17. Chattanooga I

Peter woke up to Heaven. Or at least, if there was a heaven, this would be it. He was in a cloud-like bed, and he was WARM. And the sheets were soft and not scratchy at all. He sighed with contentment.

He stretched, and his right hand smacked something firm and warm. Peter frowned, and peered a bit in the dark. And... yes. That was Wade. Sleeping peacefully next to him.

For a moment Peter froze. Wade... was in bed with him.

But... he wasn’t doing anything. He was sleeping. In fact, he was sleeping on top of the covers, while Peter was quite definitely buried under several layers of heavy blankets. After a moment, Peter relaxed. He was fine. It was just Wade, after all.

But - wasn’t he cold? Peter heistated, then gently felt Wade’s shoulder. It was like touching a space heater. A sudden vision of Peter snuggled up to the radioactive Wade while also under a million blankets made him lose the ability to think for a minute. He’d be SO WARM. Warmer than he was now. He considered... could he just wiggle the covers out from under Wade so he could make a warmth tent around him? He tugged a bit experimentally. But no. Wade was to heavy. He’d tear the sheets before he pulled them out from under him.

He narrowed his eyes at Wade, who blissfully continued to not snore, but breathe deeply. It wasn’t fair. He’d definitely complain to Wade about this later. In the meantime, he settled for more firmly burrito-ing himself in the covers, and burying his exposed face into Wade’s back. That was better. Now he was warm AND could smell Wade.

He went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, his face was cold and light from a window was hitting him in exactly the wrong place. He made a face, and opened his eyes. When he was done being blinded, he realized that Wade wasn’t in bed. He grumbled a bit at that.

And now he was faced with a dilemma. He COULD get up and go find Wade. But that would require getting up, and leaving his nest. OR... he could stay in bed. Peter sighed. It was to early for life to be this hard already.

In the end, it was his bladder that won. Peter reluctantly got up and made the trip to the bathroom. It was a great looking bathroom, and yes- that tub did look deep enough to drown in. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the giant fucking windows though. They WERE like a million stories up, so technically no one would see him... but still. He pissed as fast as he could.

He was halfway to the bed so he could snag a blanket while he searched for Wade, when a sense of wrongness hit him.

He blinked. Okay. So. He was safe. Check. He had clothes on. Well, he had yesterday’s clothes on. But still. Not naked. Check. He was in a hotel room and Wade was probably in the other room... still, why did he feel off?

“Kara?” he whispered, “What am I missing?”

She didn’t answer. And that’s when it hit him. The last time he’d heard her talk was... when he was kill- no. Fighting the cops.

_Don’t think about that now._

He took those thoughts and shoved them ruthlessly into a box and locked it.

Right. Kara. 

He hadn’t heard so much as a peep from her while he’d been puking on the side of the highway either. Where had she and her pictures of cute puppies been when he’d definitely needed them?

Was she gone? But why would she be? He... he hadn’t been injured had he? The last time he’d been hit in the head, it was by Wade. And she’d talked after that. So it wasn’t that...

If he had a computer and a USB cord he could poke around a bit... Wait... where had Wade hit him to knock him out again? If the port was damaged...

He went back in the bathroom, and hastily tore apart his braid, trying to move the hair out of the way. Yes... the scar was still there. He had to strain his neck a bit and fold his ear clear in half, but he could just barely see the scars in the mirror. It was just behind his right ear. His fingers trembled as he tried to find the USB port, but he just couldn’t find it.

He raided the bathroom and found a hand mirror. He wound up sitting half in the sink with his head almost touching the bathroom mirror as he strained to find it. Damn his fucking hair... when was the last time he’d looked for the port anyway? Most of the time he just forgot it was there. And dammit... it was almost impossible to hold the hand mirror, hold his hair out of the way, AND feel for it with his fingers at the same time.

His fingers traced the scar line to a slight bump of bone, and then it would be down... and yep. There it was. Finally. It didn’t feel dented or malformed... and it looked okay as well. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when-

“You in here baby boy?” Wade called, poking his head into the bathroom.

Peter squeaked, dropped the hand mirror and wound up on the ceiling. There was a moment of silence while Peter tried to get his heart rate under control again.

“Sweet baby Jesus, sweetums. How are you even up there? Can you get down okay?” Wade’s voice was filled with concern. And... awe?

“Um...” he squeaked. Oh god. He was going to die of embarrassment. “I... just give me a sec.” he managed to unstick his toes, which freed him to swing gently from his fingertips. A moment later he landed back on top of the sink. He struggled to get his hair out his face, and sank down into a crouch on the countertop. He deliberately didn’t look at Wade.

“Umm...” Peter as sure his face was on fire again. He didn’t LIKE being on ceilings in front of people. He wanted to be normal, dammit.

“Are you okay baby?” Wade’s voice was gentle. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I... you just startled me is all.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if you were up for some breakfast. You hungry?”

“What?” Peter looked at Wade. He wasn’t going to ask about the ceiling thing?

“You want some breakfast? I was gonna order something from the kitchen so we could eat in. Maybe we’ll even get to finish it this time, eh?”

Peter blinked. He really wasn’t going to ask. His stomach growled. Yeah, okay. Food.

“What can I get?”

“Come on in to the living room and we’ll look at the menu, eh?”


	18. Chattanooga II

Wade watched with amusement as Peter devoured his quadruple order of eggs and pancakes. That boy could eat!

[Maybe this time we’ll get three meals in him instead of just one.] White said. 

{I agree with White. You should have woken him up yesterday. Sleeping for a billion hours straight can’t be good for him.}

“You feel better Honey? You were sleeping for a while there.”

“I feel fine,” Peter said, then hesitated, like he was going to say something else. But instead he just shoved more food in his mouth. 

[Petey’s got a seeecreet.] White crooned.

{You mean besides being able to stick to ceilings? Or flipping cars?} 

Wade opened his mouth to say something when his cell phone rang. 

“Ugh. Just a second,” Wade said, abandoning his ham and toast. He wandered over near the balcony and answered the phone.

“If you’re looking for Hooters you’ve got the wrooonnng number,” Wade crooned into the phone. 

“Wade!” the voice on the other end made him wince and pull a face.

“What do you want Weasel? I just finished a job for you,” Wade whined. “You’re so needy!” 

“It’s about the last job. The guy says the data’s no good.”

“What do you mean, no good? He wanted data, I got him data. I emailed him the stuff myself!”

“He says its encrypted.”

“Well not my problem!” 

“I agree with you, but I was wondering if you had the key for it-”

“So you can copy it and double dip the guy?”

“Obviously.”

“No.”

“Any chance you can-”

“The source is melted, so no.”

“Melted? You melted the computer? Why-”

“The base, Weasel. I melted the base. The computer just happened to be inside.” 

“Of course you did,” and Wade could hear the eye-roll through the phone line. “Is that why you fucked up a Waffle House too? Too much testosterone?” 

“Who says I fucked up a Waffle House?” Wade said, and caught Peter stiffening in his chair across the room. 

“Everyone. Everyone says. No seriously man. Did they piss in your orange juice or something? I mean it’s a Waffle House. Did you expect them NOT to piss in your juice with a face like yours?”

“Weasel the only reason why they piss in your orange juice is because you won’t stop harassing the waitresses. And now I’m serious, who said that?”

“Dixon said it. He’s banging that SHIELD agent chick, and apparently she was pissed about the overtime it was causing her. Why?” 

Wade grunted. “Dixon say anything else?” 

“He’s got this toenail fungus that just won’t go away-”

“Weasel!”

“What? You asked man! And you’re a kinky guy, who knows what you get off to, I don’t judge. I mean... I totally do, but-”

“Shove it rodent. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Listen, where are you? I’ve got a job-”

“Nope. No jobs. Not for a while anyway.” 

“What... you on a cleanse or something? Those juice ones will fuck you up. I had the shits for days after that banana one-” 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Well now I’m worried about it! It’s not going to make my bar blow up again, is it?”

“I’ve never blown up your bar!” 

“Like hell you have. You remember that time you ate nothing but beans for a week? I had to get industrial blowers to air out the place.”

Wade snickered. He did remember. It had been totally worth it. “Should have tipped Chastity $5, she’d blow-”

{Woah woah KID ALERT}

“Um... nevermind. That was a bad joke-” he could see Peter snickering over his pancakes, “And very disrespectful of women,” he finished loudly, and glared at Peter, who just giggled harder. 

“Who are you and what-...  _ no _ . Don’t tell me you’ve found yourself a girl.”

“Shut up Weasel.” 

“You did! How do you get lucky more than I do? I don’t even look like an ancient avocado-” Weasel whined. 

“I’m hanging up now Weasel.”

“Send me nudes! Wait- not yours- I’ve puked already today-” 

Wade hung up the phone 

“Think whore jokes are funny, eh?” Wade growled playfully. 

“Do you really know a hooker named ‘Chastity’?” Peter managed around a mouthful of pancakes, “I thought they were a myth.”

“What, like the female-” 

{CHILD!} 

Wade choked on the last word, and cleared his throat. Right. Child. He’d gone into banter mode while talking to Weasel, and forgot that _children_ did not need to hear jokes about hookers or women’s orgasms. Right. 

“Like the female what?” Peter frowned up at him, clearly missing the joke. 

“You’re not old enough to know,” Wade said. “Forget about it.” 

Peter blinked, and then pouted at him. “I’m not a baby Wade!” he protested. 

“Oh? Then how old are you then?” Wade said, and cocked a hairless eyebrow at him.

Peter shrank in on himself and looked around shiftily. “I’m... I’m old enough to know things,” he protested. 

“That’s not a number honey,” Wade persisted firmly. “Normally I wouldn’t press about past stuff, but this is important. I need to know how old you are.” 

Peter figited. Bit his lip, and toyed with the last piece of pancake with his fork. “14,” he said at last quietly. 

Wade raised the eyebrow higher. “You wanna try that again, honey? Cuz I’m not buying that for a minute.” 

Peter flinched. 

“I’m not mad sweetheart. Well, I am a little annoyed you’d lie to me-” 

“I don’t know,” Peter blurted. “They... they think I’m around 14,” Peter said, and cringed into his chair. 

Wade blinked. Frowned and cocked his head to the side and considered Peter. 

“Do you know your birthday?” Wade asked softly. “We can work it out with math pumpkin.” 

“No,” Peter said. He looked at everything but Wade.

Wade’s frown deepened. “Okay... So, your parents sucked. But they had to have told the school something when they signed you up... What did your papers say?” 

Peter stayed silent, then sighed, and gave a small scoff. He still didn’t look at Wade. “Schools are for  _ people  _ Wade,” he said like he was explaining the obvious. 

[What the fuck does that even mean? ‘Schools are for people?’ Of course schools are for people. Who the fuck else would go? Ducks? Hockey players?]

{He’s saying he didn’t get to go because they didn’t think he was a PERSON.} Yellow hissed with anger. {That’s why he doesn’t have a birthday either. Because he’s not... human enough or something.} 

Wade wasn’t sure which hurt more. The flames of righteous anger making it hard to see, or the pit that had opened in his stomach at the thought of the scope of the mistreatment his baby had suffered. 

He took a breath. Let it out. Peter, he noticed, was watching him carefully while trying his best not to obviously cower in his chair. 

[Stop scaring him Idiot.]

Right.

He took another breath. “I’m not angry at you sweetums. Just at the lousy people who raised you. And I don’t care what they said-” Wade grabbed Peter’s chin and made him look Wade in the eye. “You are just as much as a person as anyone else. If anyone ever tells you such horseshit again, I want you to direct them to me, and I’ll shove my boot so far up their ass they’ll choke on my boot laces. You understand me?” Wade growled. 

Peter’s eyes were wide and he shook a bit, but he managed a nod. 

“I want to hear a ‘Yes Wade’.” 

“Yes Wade,” it was faint, but it was there.

Wade held his eyes for another moment, trying to make him understand how serious he was. 

“Good boy. Now go over and watch some TV sweetie. I’m gonna clean my guns,” Wade said firmly, and released the kid’s face. Peter scampered over to the couch by the TV, hurrying to obey. 

Wade watched him for a moment, waiting until the TV got turned on before he dragged out his gun bag. 


	19. Chattanooga III

Peter sat and looked at the TV. He had no idea what show he was even watching. He felt numb. He’d gone and managed to piss off Wade somehow, and he wasn’t quite sure why Wade was so angry anyway. Uncle Ben had been very clear on how he wasn’t ‘people’ the one time Peter had asked about school, and then had taken away Peter’s TV for a week for asking. Peter hadn’t asked again. 

And Hydra... well. They had been quite clear on their stance on “Omega 13” and his human status. He wasn’t one. Well. He was kinda. Enough to have genes to fiddle with. But definitely not a “person”. 

But Wade seemed to think otherwise... why?

Peter peeked his nose over the back of the couch and looked at Wade, who was vigorously scrubbing/wiping something while the rest of the gun was laid out over the cloth covered table next to an open window. Wade wasn’t quite as angry as he’d been when he started, but he was definitely.... grumpy. 

This was the third gun he’d... opened? Taken apart? Disassembled? What did you even call it? Peter didn’t know anything about guns other than what end the bullet came out of and how to shoot them. Hydra was very strict on him not having a weapon unless he was on a mission. 

Maybe there was something he could do to make Wade happy? He frowned in thought and studied Wade. What could he do... well, he knew what he would do to make Delta happy, but Wade had been very clear on that first morning that he didn’t like Peter even offering that sort of thing... 

Wade looked up at him, and Peter instinctively ducked down out of sight. Wade had told him to watch TV, not watch Wade.... but when the expected yelling didn’t happen, Peter hesitantly peeked back up again. Wade was back to cleaning his guns. 

Peter watched him some more. He had no idea what Wade was doing, but it was clear that Wade not only knew what he was doing, but was good at it. He’d rub this piece there, then examine it, then shove some sort of cleaning brush in it and ram it around like it owed him money, then looked at it some more. 

What was he looking for exactly? 

Wade looked at him again, and Peter ducked down, heart racing. And again, the yelling did not come. 

So when Peter peeked over the couch again, he was surprised to find Wade smiling wryly at him. 

“You don’t like Judge Judy pumpkin?” 

“Who’s Judge Judy?” 

Wade laughed, and wiped a mystery piece some more. “It’s what you’ve got on TV sweetie.” 

Peter spared a glance at the TV behind him. “Oh.” 

Well, somehow he’d gotten Wade to smile. And laugh. Somehow. So... progress? He felt like he was trying to put a puzzle together in the dark. With gloves on. And somehow succeeding? Fuck it, go for it. 

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, peering back over the couch, brave enough this time to show not only his nose but his chin as well. 

Wade raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m cleaning my guns pumpkin. You ever clean your guns before?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t- didn’t get a gun unless I was about to use it.” 

Wade frowned. “Well that’s just dumb. You even know how they work sweet pea?” 

“You pull the trigger and the bullet comes out the end with the hole.” 

Wade snorted. “Well, you’re about to get a lesson. Turn that off, and grab a chair. I’m gonna learn you good today, eh?” he quipped.

Well, that didn’t even make sense, but okay. Peter turned off the TV and dragged the only other chair over to the table. 

“Come sit next to me honey.” 

And so Peter sat next to him, and looked down at the tiny springs and large mystery metal bits that covered the table.

“Are you really going to be able to get this back together again?” Peter asked doubtfully. “There’s so many pieces!” 

Wade laughed. “Oh yes. Just watch.” 

Three hours and a mighty struggle later, Peter had a pistol in front of him. He’d disassembled, cleaned and reassembled it. It was tedious work, and since he didn't have Kara to help prompt him through the steps it had taken FOREVER, since his memory wasn’t the best. Wade had even had to lean over and help him when he’d been obviously stuck. But now he was done. 

“I did it! Look!” Peter crowed and moved to show Wade the gun. 

“Whoa, whoa! Good job pumpkin- but careful! Don’t point it anything you don’t want to shoot, eh?”

Peter frowned at him. “But... it’s unloaded.” 

“Doesn’t matter. You ALWAYS treat a gun like it’s loaded. I’m serious now. You point a gun even remotely at me again and I’ll put you over my knee and give you the whipping of your life, you understand?” Wade’s voice was iron.

Peter shrank in on himself. “Yes Wade,” he whispered, his voice small. 

Wade turned his chin so he had to look Wade in the eyes. “I just want you to be safe, sweetie. This is the only thing I’m deadly serious about. It’s just the worst thing ever when you kill someone you didn’t mean to. I don’t want you to go through that.”

Wade paused, then added, “Also it really sucks getting shot.” 

Peter relaxed a bit. Of course. Wade just wanted what was best. 

“Yes Wade, I’m sorry,” Peter said contritely. 

Wade watched him for a minute, before smiling. “Good. Now put it down and I’ll check your work.” 

Peter watched anxiously as Wade took the gun, and pulled on this, and examined that, and held it in the light just so. 

Wade turned to Peter and gave him a beaming smile. “It’s perfect pumpkin. You want to do a rifle next?” 

Peter thought his heart would burst, and beamed back at Wade. “Yes!” Oh he loved that smile. He’d do anything for that smile. If this was all it took to win over Wade he’d gladly clean every gun in the state. 


	20. Chattanooga IV - Puberty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puberty kicks down Peter’s front door and sets his house on fire. Let’s watch!

When Peter fell asleep on him on the couch after stuffing himself silly with pizza later that night, Wade thought he thought he’d gone to Heaven. Eventually he’d taken the boy back to bed. And there the boy had stayed. 

He knew that sometimes it took days for normal -well less fucked up people than him - to get over stuff, and the last few days had not exactly been stress free for his baby. So when Peter spent about 9 hours total awake over the next three days, he wasn’t overly alarmed. Growing boys need rest, and all that, eh? 

But soon it became a pattern. Peter would wake up, stuff himself silly with enough food for 4 people, watch TV with Wade in bed for a few hours before complaining he was hungry. Then he’d stuff himself AGAIN, and within 30 minutes Peter would be out like a light. 

It was now day 6. And while Wade had noticed Peter put on some much needed weight- he was... concerned. About all the sleeping. 

It wasn’t that he minded the downtime. He’d dug out his ancient DS and was actually making progress in Pokemon. He liked grinding for hours and then just blasting the gym leaders away with pure awesome power instead of depending on skill or tactics. It always made him grin when the bosses went down in only a couple of hits. 

He glanced at the doorway to the bedroom. For his own sanity he’d taken to only snuggling with Peter in bed while he was awake, and otherwise camping out on the couch. He’d tried to go to the hotel gym once, but he’d been so worried Peter would wake up and freak out that he’d left mid workout and hadn’t tried again. 

[Peter is FINE.]

{He is NOT fine White! Normal people don’t sleep for 6 days!} 

[Yeah, well he’s not normal.]

{What?}

[He sticks to ceilings, Yellow. He flips over cars. Normal 10 year olds don’t DO that.] 

{He’s 14!}

[Says him. I say he’s 10. He’s  _ way _ too short to be 14.] 

Wade tried to remember how tall he was when he was 14. He couldn’t remember. But then again that wasn’t the most fair comparison either. He’d always been big for his age, and towered over his classmates for as long he could remember. Back when he’d had hair. When he’d been pretty. 

[Pretty? Please. You’ve always been cat vomit Idiot.] 

Wade snorted. “I was pretty before I met you two,” he retorted.

{Easier to believe the hulking brute part though.}

Wade sighed. That... wasn’t far from the truth. He hadn’t exactly been a model student when he was in school, and he wasn’t actually physically in school that often. In the end the only reason why he’d graduated is that the army recruiter had said they wouldn’t take him unless he had a high school diploma-

“WADE!” 

The shout was so unexpected that Wade jumped and dropped his DS. What the fuck?

{It’s Peter Idiot!} 

“Wade! Oh my god- Wade!” the shouting was louder and panicked. 

Wade was already vaulting over the couch, and skidding into the bedroom.

“Peter what- HOLY SHIT.” 

{WTF is that?}

[Is... is that Jizz?]

“Get it off! I can’t... get it OFF!” Peter was struggling. A line of white... stuff... was connecting Peter’s left arm to the headboard. And Peter was flopping around like a caught fish, but that shit was not budging. 

“Woah. Woah. Calm down honey,” Wade soothed. At least the kid wasn’t bleeding out or something. 

Peter didn’t even seem to hear him, he just pulled harder. The headboard creaked, and there was the sound of wood about to snap- 

He grabbed Peter by the waist and pinned him against his chest. “Stop it,” he growled the command. “I’ve got you. You are fine. Now STOP.” 

Peter struggled for another half second before going limp in his arms, whimpering. 

“It won’t let me go!” he wailed. 

“I know. But you need to stop. You’re gonna break the headboard sweetie.” Wade said firmly.

[Or his arm. That stuff isn’t fucking around.]

“Oh,” Peter whimpered, and sniffed miserably. “I- I’m sorry Wade- I...”

“It’s okay honey. Just... relax.” 

Wade took a breath. “Okay. First of all, are you in pain right now? Is it hurting you?”

“No. But it’s weird! And sticky! And it won’t-” his words were becoming more rushed. 

“Stop. Breathe. I’m here, eh? I’ll help you. Just calm down,” Wade said firmly, and squeezed Peter reassuringly. 

Peter went boneless. “I’m... I’m scared Wade,” Peter breathed into Wade’s chest. 

“It’s okay. Just... tell me what happened, yeah?” 

“I don’t know!” Peter wailed. “I... woke up and stretched, and this... stuff came out and and -”

“It came out of you? Where?”

“My wrist! It came out of my wrist! Oh god Wade! What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know pudding. But just... hold on, yeah? I’ll cut you loose, okay?” 

Wade pulled out one of his boot knives and used it to prod... It. It wasn’t like he first thought- a single large strand. But like a braided cable, it was made up of lots of little strands, all tangled up together. And it was all coming out of the middle of Peter’s wrist. Like white roots.

[That is so  _ weird _ .]

{What if it IS roots? He’s a mutant, right? What if he bleeds when you cut them?} 

And now that was a nightmare thought. 

“This ever happen before?” he asked, as he thoughtfully - and carefully!- poked the strands with his knife.

“No!”

“Does this hurt?” He asked, and ran the blade against it. 

Peter shook his head. “No. Just... cut it please.” 

“Hold still pumpkin.” 

Wade started sawing. It was difficult. This stuff was a bitch to cut through and it was fucking flexible as well, so it was bending more than being cut. Peter’s arm jerked around from the pressure Wade was having to put on the knife, and Wade stopped, afraid to cut his boy.

“Hold on, sweetie. You’re doing so well,” Wade said, and adjusted his grip. A firm hand on Peter’s tiny wrist, with a thumb planted on the spot it was coming out of to stabilize it so he could help Peter hold still-

Peter gasped and jerked away, “FUCK!” he screamed, before bending over double, holding his wrist to his chest, his whole body shaking. 

[What did you DO?]

{Poor baby- that place must be sore. What the fuck were you thinking Idiot?} Yellow hissed.

“Shit. Fuck! Are you okay?” Wade asked, panicked, and instantly dropped the knife. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry sweetie. I did NOT mean to hurt you-” 

Peter only swore. And swore some more with extra feeling. 

Wade tried to rub his back, but Peter flinched and whimpered at his touch, so Wade quickly abandoned the bed, giving Peter some space. 

“Take a minute. It’s okay. I got it sweet pea. I won’t touch you there again.” 

It took a few minutes for Peter to calm down and stop shaking. 

“You’re okay honey. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again, yeah? Just breath baby,” Wade said, and this time Peter didn’t flinch when Wade rubbed his back. 

Peter whimpered. “Okay. Okay. I’m... I’m okay,” Peter said, sounding not okay at all. He sat up, his face red and streaked with tears. “I’m... I’m sorry Wade. I... “

“Hey. Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who hurt you, eh? I forget my little baby’s all fragile and shit.” 

Peter snorted a hysterical giggle. “Okay Wade.” 

Wade slid back behind Peter. “I’m gonna hold your arm okay-”

Peter stiffened. 

“Not there, honey. Further down. You let me know if it hurts, yeah? I’m just gonna help you keep your arm still okay? I don’t want to cut you.” 

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was small, and he was tense as Wade gently grasped the middle of his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“How’s this? It okay here?” 

Peter nodded. “Okay. Just- just don’t-”

“I won’t go anywhere near that spot, I promise,” Wade said firmly, increased his grip, and resumed sawing. 

It took forever. Halfway through, he stopped and got his giant serrated “jungle” knife. He’d gotten it for a laugh years ago at one of those stupid “Mall Ninja” type shops that sold things like brass knuckles with spikes on them. Thankfully the ridiculous stair stepped blade turned out to be the ticket, and he literally sawed the crap in half. 

Peter sighed in relief as he was released from the restraint. 

“Oh my god Wade... what IS it?” he asked, picking at it. It was still firmly attached to his wrist. 

“I have no idea pumpkin. You said you were doing what when it happened?”

“I was just stretching-” Peter demonstrated, but with his right arm, “and- fuck!” 

A jet of white... stuff... shot out and landed on the ceiling. 

“Oh my god!” Peter shouted, and tugged. But nope. Peter was now attached to the ceiling. 

Wade thought he was going to explode. Was there such a thing as horrified laughter? He settled for sniggering. “Babe- what are you even?” 

“WADE!” Peter wailed, “This isn’t funny!” 

“I’m sorry,” Wade said, even though he wasn’t. “But... you are just too cute right now.” 

Peter groaned, and Wade took the opportunity to steal a kiss on an exasperated Peter’s forehead. 

“Just hold still honey. I’ll cut you loose. Again.” Wade giggled.

Peter grumbled, and sighed, but held still, while Wade cut him free. Again. This time Wade avoided the wrist area completely, and held onto his forearm.

And now Peter sat miserably on the bed, with string coming out of his arms, and more string attached to the ceiling, and headboard. It was hilarious, worrying, and so WTF, Wade wasn’t sure what to make of it all. 

“What am I gonna do Wade?” Peter wailed. 

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend stretching-”

Peter smacked Wade’s bicep, and then hissed as the string on his wrist got caught on Wade’s shirt. 

“Oh god, no-” 

“Baby you’re dangerous!” Wade laughed, and tried to pry the string off, but no. It was firmly attached. “How does it even do that?” 

“I’m stuck to your shirt, Wade! What... how am I going to LIVE like this?” 

Wade scooped him in for a hug. “It’s okay sweetums. We’ll figure it out. Even if we can’t I know a guy who knows some people, yeah?” 

Peter stiffened. “People?” 

“It’s okay honey. They’re mutants. They know all about weird.” 

Peter shook his head. “I don’t want that!” 

“Hey. I said ‘if’. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Just be careful where you aim those wrists in the meantime, eh?” 

Peter just groaned. 


	21. Chattanooga V Puberty II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: underage, angst, puberty
> 
> After the craziness of the last chapter Peter does some body exploration in the shower as he tries to figure out WTF is even going on right now, which triggers some extra strength angst. Keep in mind he’s underage. *spooky ghost voice* You’ve been warned....

Peter wasn’t entirely sure what part of this day was the worst. Was it when he had weird white... stuff coming out of his wrists? Was it the fact that it'd been nearly a week and Kara was still offline? Or was it when he’d almost creamed his pants when Wade had pressed down on his wrist in that stupid spot?

Probably the last one. _And it wasn’t even noon yet._

Thank fuck Wade had thought he’d hurt him. He’d thought he was going to set the whole bed on fire with just the heat from his face, but Wade had backed off and given him space to calm down.

What the fuck even had that been about? He’d been hauled around plenty by his wrists, his hair, hell even his ankles sometimes and nothing like that had ever- ugh.

He sat in the shower, face burning. It was a nice shower. Big enough Peter could sit in the floor and let the shower run over him, while he hugged his knees with lots of room for steam everywhere else.

Wade had carefully cut off the bits of... _not wrist jizz, ew._.. stuff from his wrists and patted his head and told him to go take a shower and “Have a good cry sweetie. You earned it,” while he cleaned up the rest of the stringy mess.

Ugh. Stupid psychic Wade. He didn’t NEED to cry. The fact that he WAS crying a bit was just a coincidence.

He relived that moment when Wade had pressed on his wrist. He’d flinched and Wade had backed off immediately, but what if he’d noticed how hard Peter had been? He hadn’t said anything, but by now Peter knew that Wade was nice like that. What if Wade _knew_?

Shit. SHIT.

_Calm down Peter. It’s not like he didn’t know you’re a fucking whore already. You tried to seduce him like 2 minutes after you met him remember?_

He physically cringed at the memory. Ah. Another reason to throw himself into a pit.

Stupid Wade. Stupid wrists. He’d never touch them again! Not even to clean them!

Two minutes later he was poking the left one experimentally with a finger. If he peered at it close enough... yes. There was a hole where the... threads had come out. A little bit of the white threads was still there. Wade had cut them down as close to the skin as possible to keep him from sticking to stuff.

He frowned and poked it. Nothing.

He poked harder. Still nothing.

What was it exactly Wade had done? Peter thought, and carefully wrapped his hand around his wrist. Gripped it firmly. And pressed with a thumb.

OOoo... that did something. That was... interesting? It was... weird. It was like... his danger sense? Tingly. But nice instead of stabby?

What would happen if he rubbed...? The tingles increased, but it wasn’t anything like what had happened when Wade had done it.

He bit his lip in frustration.

Okay, slow down. Wade had sat behind him, his big strong chest right up against Peter’s stupidly tiny back, and his breath had brushed Peter’s ear as he’d told Peter how good he was...

Fuck. He was getting hard and he hadn’t figured out his wrist thing yet. _Why the fuck was he getting hard?_ _What is happening?_

Concentrate Peter. One crisis at a time.

He breathed. Okay.

Wade had held his wrist, and then pressed... and moved his thumb forward and held it there -

Peter came with a gasp and shook at the intensity of the orgasm.

It took Peter’s brain a minute to come back online after that. He was crying. _Why was he crying?_

Oh right. It was because he was a stupid slut. And he was now apparently jizzing crap from some sort of fucked up dick hole on his wrists. And when he touched them... Fuck. And his fucking knees hurt. Why did his KNEES hurt? Wade was right after all: How was he even right now?

Eventually Peter got out the shower not because he was done wallowing but because he couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to stay longer.

Right. Pretend everything was okay, and maybe they’d actually be okay. He could do that.

He toweled off, and spent ages on his hair with the hairdryer, just sitting naked on a towel on the floor. By the time he was done he at least had stopped the pathetic sniveling.

He went to put on his underwear... and they stopped halfway up his thighs.

Peter frowned, and peered down. He knew how to put on god damned underwear... right? He tugged, and they crept up a bit, but .... they were too small. They didn’t fit.

Okay... he’d been wearing underwear before he got in the shower, yes? No. Well, yes he’d been wearing underwear but sometime during his eating and sleeping ... thing... he’d started wearing a pair of Wade’s soft boxers and nothing else because everything else had felt too scratchy...

Well, shit. Okay. Don’t panic. His shirt was nice and extra long, yeah? He could wear that and go find Wade...

His shirt wouldn’t make it over his shoulders. Peter would never in a million years call his shoulders “broad” but right now the shirt refused to move past the middle of his biceps when he tried to pull it on over his head.

The real problem was when he gave up and tried to take it off. It refused to budge.

He panicked for a moment. He couldn’t call Wade for help. Not like this, when he was _naked and stuck in a fucking shirt._ Okay. Think Peter...

After some experimentation, Peter managed to pin a part of the shirt between a foot and the tiled wall of the bathroom. He grunted and turned his feet sticky... braced... wiggled and swore... and the shirt came free at last with a tearing sound.

For a moment he lost his balance, and he would have fallen except for the fact he had one foot “stuck” against the wall, and the other “stuck” to the floor. He flailed for a moment before he regained his balance.

He sighed with relief and went to remove his foot from the wall- and nearly fell again when it didn’t move.

FUCK.

Okay. Don’t panic. His “sticky” trick never worked very well when he panicked. He knew this. Just. Take a minute. And his foot would come off when it was ready.

He leaned forward, hung his head and sighed. WTF was his life right now? Naked, with one foot “stuck” to the tiled wall almost at shoulder height...

There was a knock on the door. Peter’s heart just about gave out.

“You okay in there sweetie?”

“I’m fine! Don’t... don’t come in!” he squeaked, his eyes riveted on his rogue foot.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I was thinking we could go out and get something to eat for a change. Think about where you want to go, eh?”

“Oh... okay!”

He listened, and could hear Wade move away from the door. Peter sighed with relief, then squeaked as his foot choose that moment to turn loose, and slid UP and to the side, making Peter lurch forward and get a face full of tile while doing a split that made his groin scream.

He threw himself off the wall, overcorrecting... and landed with a thump on his ass.

“Ow....” he groaned.

“You okay in there pumpkin? I heard-” Wade was at the door again.

“I’m okay!” it was hasty and rushed and 100% a lie.

There was a pause. He could hear Wade shift behind the door.

“Are you hurting yourself Peter?” Wade’s voice was low, firm and deadly serious. “I want the truth or-”

“I’m not! I’m not! I just... I’m having trouble with my clothes-”

“Your clothes?”

“They... they don’t fit.” Peter bit his lip.

“The ones I just bought?”

“I know... I’m sorry...” and now Peter felt like shit. Wade had gone and wasted money on him...

“It’s alright. Must have gotten a wrong size somewhere. Put on some undies and we’ll go through your stuff.”

“They don’t fit either.”

“What?”

“My underwear... they don’t fit either. Nothing fits.” Peter sniffed, and felt his eyes well up. Ugh. Why was he crying this time? He didn’t know.

_This is so frustrating. STOP CRYING already! God! What is WRONG with me?_

“Hang on pumpkin. Don’t panic.”

Peter listened as Wade went away from the door and came back a moment later.

“I’ve got a pair of my boxers you can wear. Open the door a bit and I’ll pass them through, eh?”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later a flushed Peter emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but Wade’s giant boxers. He had to keep them up with one hand. The other hand gripped a bicep as he tried to cover his chest with a tiny toothpick arm. It wasn’t very effective.

Wade glanced at him, then did a double take. Peter blushed as Wade’s eyes traced him up and down.

“Wade?”

“Come here a minute sweet pea,” Wade said, and drew Peter up against him. Peter, mystified, tried to look up at Wade.

“No no. Hold still a minute.” Wade said, and very carefully put a hand on top of Peter’s head. “Huh...”

“Wade? What is it?”

“You’ve grown honey. Like... seriously grown.”

“I did?”

“You barely came up to my pecs before but now... look!” Wade stepped back, his hand clearly nearly even with his armpit.

Peter stared at Wade, “But that’s like...”

“At least... 5 inches? Maybe? How tall are you?”

“4’7”.”

Wade snorted. “You’re not that now honey. That’s why your clothes don’t fit.” He whistled. “That’s one hell of a growth spurt. You hurting?”

Peter considered. “My knees ache a bit. But... I feel okay.”

“Baby Jesus save us. You sure you feel okay?” Wade took hold of his chin, and looked him in the eyes. “No dizziness? Or tingling? Anything else change?”

Peter turned bright red. Was that steam coming from his ears? He swore he could feel steam...

“I... I no. Nothing’s changed,” he sputtered.

Wade frowned and considered him. “You know you can tell me anything pumpkin. You know that right? Whatever’s wrong we can fix, eh?”

“No... not... I’m fine.” Wade most definitely did NOT need to know about his... wrist hole... problem. Wait. Was it a problem? That time in the shower wasn’t the worst thing... in fact it had felt really fucking great come to think of it...

Peter was suddenly very very aware that he was wearing only boxers, and standing directly in front of Wade. Thinking sexy thoughts. _Oh God. Please no._

No boners please no boners...

_Sad kittens! Lost puppies!_ he thought desperately.

Peter shifted and stepped further back. His toothpick arms covering nothing. There would be no hiding. Fuckkkkk...

Maybe he could throw himself out a window?

“What are we going to do about my clothes?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Wade studied him as he fidgeted for a moment then sighed.

“We’ll just return them and get you some new ones. It’s fine. Walmart will take just about anything back. You’ll just have to wear some of my sweats again, that’s all,” Wade said and started digging through a duffel bag.

Peter watched him. Wade had changed into a black t-shirt while he’d been in the shower. The sleeves barely fit around his biceps. Peter bit his lip. Why didn’t he have nice arms like that? He could flip fucking cars, but Wade had bigger arms than he did. It wasn’t fair...

“You’ve gotten the talk about puberty, yeah?” Wade’s voice was gentle.

“What?” Peter felt like he’d been hit with a brick.

Wade sighed, and turned and faced Peter. “The mutation. The growth spurt. It means you’re turning into a man pumpkin. Someone’s talked to you about that sort of thing, yeah?”

Peter turned red. Again. “I... yeah,” he said and studied the floor. He could even feel his ears burning... shit.

“Hmm. I’ll get you a book or something.”

Peter grew redder. How did he get redder?

“Waaade... I don’t need a... a book-”

“Hush. I wish I had a book about it when I was your age. My old man didn’t tell me shit. Thought I was dying the first time I had a wet dream,” Wade stopped messing with the clothes, and chuckled. “God that year was just awful.”

Peter stared at him. “A... wet dream? What’s that?”

Wade frowned at him. “Now you’re getting TWO books about puberty,” he growled.

“Waade-”

“Keep it up and I’ll make you do book reports on them.”

Peter groaned.

“Its okay honey. It sucks for everyone.”

Wade drew Peter in for a hug. “It’s gonna be okay sweet pea,” Wade said, and kissed the top of Peter’s head.

Peter sighed resignedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Poor Peter. Puberty is hard, doubly so when you’re a mutant. 
> 
> On a side note I’m sorry if your notifications go off like crazy or something. I’m doing some minor housekeeping in some of the previous chapters. I’m fixing a couple of typos and minor continuity/wording errors that have been bugging me. 
> 
> Also my life is mildly on fire right now between my 2 jobs and school, so I probably won’t be able to upload another chapter until sometime next week.


	22. Chattanooga VI

They hit up another Walmart after binging at Burger King. Peter was wearing Wade’s old hoodie again and some of his sweats. The string was busted so Peter had to keep a hand on his waistband to keep them up. 

Peter found it frustrating, but Wade found it adorable. 

{If you stare at his ass any more they’ll put you on a list.} Yellow warned as they walked towards the boy’s section. 

Right. “What do you want to look at first sweet pea?” he asked. 

“I want to know how tall I am,” Peter said. “Do you think they have like...” Peter frowned. “I dunno. Rulers?” 

Wade chuckled. “I think I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s go find the Hardware section, eh?” 

It took them a good 10 minutes to find the tape measures. 

“Go stand against that pillar there,” Wade directed. 

Peter stood, and squirmed anxiously as Wade worked the tape measure.  “What does it say?” 

“Hold still pumpkin!” Wade laughed. “Let’s see...” he made a big show of reading and double checking the tape measure. 

“Waaade!” Peter whined.

“5 feet and half an inch.” 

“Really? Are you serious? I broke 5 feet?” Peter said, hopping. 

“Yes. And careful! Don’t lose your pants or they’ll kick us out! Even Walmart has some standards-” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s Walmart Wade. You said they have no standards-” 

“I’m sure they make an exception for naked children.” 

Peter turned red. “I’m not... naked! And I’m not a child!” Peter hissed. 

“You will be very definitely naked if you take your hand off your pants again sweetie,” Wade teased. 

Peter huffed, and grabbed at the pants. “They're your stupid broken pants. Why do you have them if they’re broken?” 

Wade shrugged. “They’re too comfy to throw out.” He put the tape measure back. “Lets go get you some new duds, baby boy. You’re about to bounce outta your flip flops.” 

Peter grumbled, but didn’t argue. Peter was currently damn near half out of said flip flops, his heels spilling over the ends. They were so short they almost didn’t make the “flip flop” noise when he walked. 

It took a couple of hours. Peter was now apparently in a weird mid-size where he was just slightly to tall for children’s sizes, but to small for 99% of the adult men section. 

But eventually they found stuff that fit. 15 attempts at jeans, 5 shirts that could cover Peter’s tattoo, 1 pair of flip flops and a partridge in a pear tree of underwear later Wade was ready to call it a day. 

But Peter lingered. 

Wade frowned at him. “Something wrong pumpkin?” 

Peter was already wearing some of the stuff they were going to buy, so Peter just looked extra adorable and not homeless when he dug his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground bashfully. 

“Can... can I get a computer Wade?” 

“A computer?” Wade considered. “Why do you need a computer sweetie?” 

Peter bit a lip, then tugged on Wade’s shirt and looked up at him with big blue eyes through those thick lashes. “Please... daddy? Can I have one?” 

Wade wasn’t born yesterday. He knew when he was being manipulated. And that was the first time Peter had called him “daddy” in a while, which meant the little brat knew  _ exactly _ what it did to him... 

He melted anyway. What was the harm? It was just a computer. 

{You’re just a big softie, Idiot.}

[I don’t see the big deal. He’s probably going to just look at porn on it or something.]

“Well I don’t buy computers at Walmart,” Wade said. 

Peter pouted a little. 

“But I don’t see why we can’t swing by Best Buy though on the way back to the hotel though,” Wade continued. 

Peter beamed at him, and Wade felt his insides turn into goo. 

[Seriously Idiot. You’re embarrassing.]

30 minutes and some google maps later, they were in a Best Buy. 

“Is this a phone store?” Peter asked, as they stood in the entrance. “I thought we were going to get a computer...”

“It didn’t use to be pumpkin,” Wade sighed. “But they’ve got laptops somewhere. Lets go look. What were you thinking sweet pea? Mac? Windows?”

“Not a Mac,” Peter said, then thought for a moment. “It should have like a circle with like 2 different colors on the back of it?” 

“A Chromebook?” 

“I think so? There’s an app I want...” 

“That would be a Chromebook then,” Wade said, amused. For someone who clearly didn’t know boodle about computers, his baby boy sure know what he wanted. What on earth was he going to use it for? 

[I’m telling you it’s porn.]

{You don’t get porn in apps!} Yellow said. {Wait. Can you get porn in apps?} 

[We should look! Double check his computer when he’s sleeping!]

{We can’t do that!} 

[Why not? What’s the point of being a parent if you don’t abuse your power for no reason?]

Wade grunted. He wasn’t going to power trip the boy. If he wanted a computer, he’d get the kid a computer. Worst thing he could do was get a weird virus on it, right? 

They found the chromebooks. 

“This one’s nice.” Wade said, and picked up the most expensive one. “It’s pretty!”

Peter frowned. “It doesn’t have a keyboard though.” 

“I’m sure it has a fancy touchscreen one-”

“No I want a keyboard.” 

“Well then, how about this one?” Wade said, and pulled the next most expensive one. “This one has a touch screen and a keyboard.” 

Peter frowned at the price. “That’s fine, but that one over there does both and it’s cheaper-” 

“You get what you pay for honey buns. If it’s cheaper that just means it’s last years model or something. I ain’t getting you a last year model anything.” 

Peter flushed. “Okay Wade.” 

{Get him headphones! I don’t want to hear his porn!} Yellow hissed.

[And sd cards. He’s gonna need at LEAST 64 gigs when he finds the hentai.]

“I’ll go get someone with keys. You go pick out some cute headphones,” Wade said, and pointed to the end of the aisle. “Don’t get Beats though. I’m not gonna buy you that crap,” he called as he walked away. 

A faint “Yes Wade,” followed him as he walked away. 

Wade went straight to the cashier, since that was the only way to find anyone in these stupid box stores. If he was in NYC, he knew of several nice hole in the wall places where the guys knew him by name and didn’t even blink at bullet holes in laptops. But he was in Chattanooga so... beggars can’t be choosers, eh? 

“Hey, can I get someone with keys to get a laptop?” He asked brightly, deliberately ignoring the cashier's flinch when she got a good look at him. 

“I’ll call for a floor manager.” she said, her smile strained and false. 

Wade took the hint, and backed off. 

[Ya know... I can’t help but notice...]

Wade waited. If White noticed, this was going to be obvious and stupid. And probably hilarious. 

[But the kid’s never even mentioned Idiot’s scars.] 

There was a pause in his brain. White... was right. He’d never even thought about it, but the kid had basically looked at him... and kept on... keeping on? 

{Huh. I don’t think anyone’s stuck around long enough before to ask.} Yellow said. 

[Didn’t Weasel ask?]

{Yeah, but he knew Idiot from the Before Time. So of course HE asked.} 

[Huh. Is that normal?]

{Normal is when they reach for the pepper spray. And we know our Petey isn’t normal.}

[Thank god. He’d be so boring if he was ‘normal’.] White was scathing. [Not that Idiot deserves him.]

{Yep. He still hasn’t met US yet either. No amount of sugar Daddying is gonna save you there Idiot.} 

Wade did his best to ignore them. But his chest suddenly felt tight and hurt. Fuck... they were right, and he hated it when they were right. 

“What can I help you with today sir?” A manager appeared behind him. Unlike the low ranking cashiers, they had seen some shit before, and their smiles were more convincing. This one must have taken acting lessons on the side to, because he didn’t even flinch at Wade’s face when Wade turned to face him. 

“I want a chromebook for my kid,” Wade said. “I know which one I want, I just need some keys to get it.” 

“Sure thing,” the manager’s smile was more genuine now. People were always happier to see him when he threw money around. “Come with me.” 

“You said you knew what you wanted?” the manager asked, as they rounded the corner to the laptops.

“The HP two in one with a keyboard.” 

“Oh! That one’s a good one. But if you’re looking for a good touch screen the Pixel-”

“My boy wants a keyboard.” 

“You can always add a keyboard. We sell one that attaches-” 

“No, the HP one is what he wants.” 

“Sure sure. Can I interest you in some SD cards?” the manager said, as he unlocked the cage with the laptops, “The HP has some decent storage built in, but-” 

[Where’s Peter?]

{We left him in the headphones, yeah?} 

A bad feeling formed in Wade’s stomach. Peter was nowhere in sight. 

“Can you take it up front for me? I’m gonna look around a bit more.” 

“Of course! It’ll be at register 2.” 

Wade’s smile dropped the second he turned away from the manager, as he started to stalk the aisles. He suddenly remembered Walmart and the last time he’d left Peter by himself. Dammit. The boy was just to pretty for his own good. If he was lucky he’d get the license plate of the traffickers from the security cameras... 

{You never should have left him Idiot!}

[They’ll have sold him already by now! It’s been at least 5 minutes!] White was in hysterics. 

He was debating whether to go straight to the security station and demand access to the cameras at gunpoint, when his ear caught a familiar voice in the DVD section. 

“I don’t know... I’ve never seen that show before...” It was soft, and reluctant, but definitely-

[That was Peter!]

{Thank Christ!} 

Wade rounded the corner. 

“You can come back to my place. I’ve got seasons 1 AND 2,” a teenage boy was saying. He was standing much to close to Peter for Wade’s peace of mind. Not only that but the bastard was taller than his Petey pie and was leaning against a pillar, damn near trapping his sweetie between the DVD racks and him. 

“Peter?” he called firmly. 

Peter turned, and his face blossomed into a sun of relief. 

“Dad! Sorry, I gotta go,” Peter babbled to the kid, then hurried over to Wade. Wade frowned at the teenage boy, who seemed to be coming to several epiphanies all at the same time. 

“I didn’t know how to get rid of him! He followed me all the way from the headphones!” Peter hissed. 

Wade glared harder, and all but snarled at the boy, who paled and beat a hasty retreat. 

“I’m gonna get you a phone,” Wade growled. “You are too adorable for kidnappers and perverts to resist. Maybe I’ll get you a rape whistle to.” 

Peter cringed. “I don’t need a rape whistle.” he whined. “I can take care of myself if it comes to that.” 

“Now you’re getting pepper spray.” 

“Waade!”

“I’ll bedazzle it just for you, sweetie. It’ll say ‘cockblocked’.” 

Peter groaned. 

Wade got him a Galaxy, and even shelled out a ridiculous amount for a case for it so he could tell the difference between Peter’s and his phones. Peter picked out a nice set of earbuds, and insisted on several USB cords. “In case I lose one.” 

“You know this one doesn’t fit your phone sweetums. I think you got it by mistake,” Wade pointed out. It was a USB A to USB A. “Your phone takes a C. I know it’s confusing. I’ll just-”

“No. I want that one.” 

Wade frowned. “But-”

“Please?” Peter turned on the puppy eyes. “It’s so pretty!” 

Wade considered the cord. It was sparkly pink and purple and only $10. He’d gladly spend $10 to make his Peter happy. 

“Okay sweetie.” 

“Thank you Daddy.” Peter said, and gave him a hug.. 

Wade melted like a crayon under a heat gun. “Of course baby, anything for you.” he said, and kissed the top of Peter’s head. He smelled like an ocean today from his shampoo. 

“Let’s go and play with your new toys, eh?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take a moment to tell you how much I love you guys! I read EVERY single comment, and it really makes my heart just explode with joy knowing that you guys are liking the story!
> 
> The updates are going to seriously slow down over the next couple of weeks- I’ve got finals coming up and I’m working like crazy. But after that we should be back on track.
> 
> And yes, that boy in the DVD aisle thought that Peter was a girl. XD


	23. Chattanooga VII - The Windows Update

Peter fidgeted anxiously on the couch and ate his pizza as Wade set up his computer. It was a bit of an ordeal- first Wade had to make him an email account on his phone, and make him a password, and then log into to both the phone and the laptop, then download stuff and... it took an hour. An hour much too long, in Peter’s opinion, especially since he didn’t get to help with anything other than provide a fingerprint for the sensor. 

“Do you use the fingerprint?” 

“No. My scars mean I don’t have one. Well, I do. But it changes every couple of days. So it’s useless for me.” 

“Your fingerprints change?” Peter asked, eyebrows wrinkling. “Is that like... one of your powers?” 

Wade laughed. “No. I wish.” 

Peter looked at Wade, and bit a lip, and waited. But Wade didn’t say anything else. 

He wondered if he could ask. If he SHOULD ask. But no. Wade would tell him when he was ready. Peter still had secrets. He would let Wade keep his. It was only fair. 

“Is it ready?” He asked, when Wade lingered on a screen for to long.

“Ah... yes sweetie. Ready to go.” 

“Thank you Wade!” Peter chirped excitedly, gave Wade a peck on the check, and grabbed the laptop and the phone, and went off to the bedroom.

It wasn’t until he was in the bedroom and had opened the play store on the laptop that he realized what he’d done. 

He’d... just kissed Wade. 

Well, it’d been a peck. On the cheek. But it was still a kiss. It wasn’t Peter’s first but... it was the first one he’d given 100% willingly... and he’d gone and given it to Wade. And he hadn’t even thought about it. 

Oh god. He sighed, and waited for the bed to swallow him up. But it didn’t. As usual, there were no saving him from embarrassing himself. Maybe one day his pit would come, but it looked like today wasn’t it. 

He was tempted, so tempted, to peek out and see if Wade... no. Wade wouldn’t care. He was an adult. He’d probably been kissed loads of times. Hell, he kissed Peter all the time. Well. On the forehead or on the top of head....

Peter felt his brain break.

Wait. Wade did kiss him a lot. And hug him. But he’d said that he didn’t want sex... so then... why did Wade do that? And more importantly... why was Peter  _ letting _ him? 

He stared at his hands. He could  _ feel _ the panic attack coming on. But dammit he didn't have TIME for one. He needed to figure out what was going on with Kara. And he couldn’t do that if he was busy being a... a...  _ child _ over something as stupid as a peck on the cheek, or a quick kiss on his forehead. 

And besides. Kids kissed their dads on the cheek all the time. Right? Maybe? And Wade had said Peter was his ‘baby boy.’ That was like... a son right? In fact, in that movie... what was it... the dad had kissed his kid. So that was a thing. In fact, people kissed their kids all the time on TV. Right? So it was fine. It was  _ FINE. _

Right? 

Right. He took a breath and ruthlessly shoved all of his emotions in box, locked it, and set it on fire. 

Okay. Focus. USB cord. He needed one.

He had to fight to get the USB cable out of it’s packaging. The other ones he didn’t even bother with. It was the pink and purple one that he needed. Thank god he could think on his feet. He’d almost panicked when Wade had been all “This won’t fit your phone.” 

_ Thank you Jesus for puppy dog eyes. _ Coming in clutch when he needed it. 

He plugged it into his laptop and was about to plug the other end into his head when he realized... he didn’t know how long this would take. What if... what if Wade walked in on him with a fucking USB cord in his head? 

Peter bit his lip. Sure, Wade had been all “you’re a person,” and all, but... he didn’t know about the brain surgeries. Or Kara.. How could he keep Wade from finding out...? 

His gaze fell on the bathroom. That door had a lock. It could work. 

It didn’t take him long to set up- a couple of pillows and a blanket to sit on so that he wouldn’t freeze to death sitting on the tile floor. 

In less than 5 minutes he had downloaded the app he needed on the play store, and had the cord plugged into his head. 

He shuddered. The cord was powered, and he could FEEL the tingle as the laptop tried to “power” his brain. It was like having an itch in the middle of your head. Like cleaning the deepest part of your ears with a vibrating Q-tip. 

Wait. Did Kara need to be charged? She never mentioned it... maybe that was why she was quiet? She was... out of battery? But it had been MONTHS since Hydra, well, plugged him into anything...

Beep. The computer was registering a new USB device. Would he like to open it? 

Yes. Yes he fucking would. 

The app he used was a simple one- just a file explorer. He opened the USB “device” and clicked on the app that was in it. 

A few seconds later it had installed itself. It wasn’t fancy. Just a black screen and some green text.

“Valkyrie Project Version 1.2” was all it said. There was a blinking icon where you could type. 

Peter very carefully typed “Status” and hit enter. 

A moment later a bunch of names appeared. After each name was “inactive.” At the very bottom, was “Kara”. She was listed as “dormant.” 

Peter bit his lip. She was supposed to be “active.” What the hell was dormant? 

He did some googling on his phone. 

“So... she’s sleeping?” Peter muttered. “Why would she be sleeping?” 

He typed “home”. Then once he was back on the home screen, he typed “Kara.” 

Another screen appeared. This one said “Reinitialization Required. Initiate? Y/N?” 

Ooo.... that sounded scary. Reinitialization? What would happen if he typed Y? That meant yes, maybe? 

More googling. Okay. So the Y meant “yes.” And “Reinitialization” meant... to reset? Basically? Kara needed to be reset? 

Well, she did say she’d been damaged, and was fixing it. Maybe... maybe it was like a computer with those windows updates? Everyone always complained about how they had to restart their computer for the updates and how it always happened at the literal worst times ever. So... Kara needed to be rebooted. That made sense. Kinda.

He worried at his lip. What... what if he pressed Yes and Kara didn’t remember him? But if he pressed no... did that mean she definitely wouldn’t come back at all? 

His eyes found the door. He desperately wanted to talk to someone. But Wade... no. He couldn’t ask him. He wouldn’t understand. She was a voice in his head. How stupid was it to want a voice in your head BACK? Only a crazy person would want that. 

He hit Y before he could chicken out. 

“Come on... come on...” he muttered. 

The screen changed again. “Reinitialization : 0 of 10 processes updated” and then a little bar that started to fill up with color. Very slowly. 

Peter sighed. Okay. So.. it was working. Maybe. Did he dare unplug? He hesitated. 

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t risk Kara. 

So he laid on the floor and got out his phone. He’d play a game or something while he waited. 


	24. Chattanooga VIII - The Windows Update II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot think of a reason why I shouldn't publish this chapter already. Also I'm doing this instead of homework. 
> 
> You're welcome. :P

Wade sat on the couch, stunned. He felt like someone had just hit him with an electrified baseball bat. Peter... had just kissed him. 

He rubbed at the cheek absently. 

[Holy shit. The kid likes us!]

{The kid likes IDIOT.} Yellow said. {He hasn’t met us yet, remember?}

Wade glanced at the doorway, but Peter was already in the bedroom fiddling with his computer, making happy noises. 

Well... that had been the best thing ever. Was this... was this what happiness felt like?

[Don’t get used to it. It never stays.] 

Wade ignored White, and turned on the TV. He’d let his Petey be with his new toy. 

A few minutes later... was that the bathroom door? 

[TOLD YOU.] White said smugly. 

{Thank god we got him headphones.}

Wade chuckled, and turned up the TV. Just in case. 

Wade woke up on the couch, and frowned. The TV was still on, and it was showing some stupid infomercial. His Hello Kitty watch said that it was 2 in the morning. He’d fallen asleep on the couch. 

He sighed, and stretched out a crick in his back, and made his way quietly to the bedroom. He didn’t want to disturb Peter... 

The bed was empty. But the light in the bathroom was on. 

{Jesus Christ he’s been in there for HOURS.}

[Maybe he fell asleep?] 

{Do we dare try to open the door?} 

Wade winced. Still. It was 2 am. The kid should be sleeping in a bed. Not passed out on the floor or a toilet. He knocked. “Peter?” 

He waited. Nothing. 

He tried again. “Peter?” He knocked louder. 

Still nothing. A bad feeling gripped his stomach. Peter had been happy this afternoon... but Wade knew all to well that didn’t mean anything. 

“Peter open this door!” He banged. 

Still nothing. 

[Oh my god. Peter.]

{Break it down Idiot!} 

He kicked it open. The door slammed into the wall behind it and bounced, but Wade ignored it. His eyes were on the delicate thin boy laying on the bathroom floor. 

Ignoring everything else, he knelt and went for Peter’s wrists- which were whole and uncut. And Peter’s skin was warm. 

_ Oh, thank fuck.  _

He reached for Peter’s neck to check his pulse, and froze. 

[What the FUCK is that?]

{Is that... the USB cord you bought him?} 

It was. The stupid pink and purple USB cord went from somewhere behind Peter’s ear to the laptop. Which was off. 

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck  _

He tapped on the track pad. The screen popped back on, and green letters on a black background proclaimed: “Reinitialization : 9 of 10 processes updated.” It even had a little status bar. Right now it was at about 50% filled. 

Wade’s hand ran through Peter’s hair. Peter was breathing, softly and regularly. 

Wade sat there frozen. 

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck  _

[He’s an android!]

{There’s no such thing as androids!} 

[He’s an android! He even has an android phone! An android using an android!] White was getting hysterical. 

{He can’t be an android. Androids don’t grow. Or eat pancakes.} 

[Do you think he has a self-destruct button?]

“Shut up!” Wade barked. “This is Peter. It... it doesn’t matter.” 

Wade stroked Peter’s hair. “He’s still my baby boy,” he whispered. 

He sat there, just looking Peter. 

[Do you think he’ll wake up?] White whispered. 

{Maybe he will when it’s done?} Yellow said hesitantly. 

And so Wade sat on the cold tile floor next to his precious Peter for 2 hours. Waiting. 

And he’d been so sure he’d known what hell was...

Eventually the computer beeped. 

“Reinitialization: 10 of 10 processes complete. Reboot now? Y/N” 

{Oh god. Would he have been stuck here...} 

“Shut up Yellow,” Wade said, feeling sick. He could imagine it all to easily. Peter unconscious on the floor, unable to press the single stupid button that would wake himself up... stuck there until the computer died... the maid service finding him... 

[We can’t leave him alone again.] White hissed. [Never ever ever!]

{He was only like 20 feet away! And Idiot has to sleep sometime!} 

He pressed Y. And waited. Oh god. It was hard to breathe- his chest hurt so much... 

“Please. Please wake up,” Wade whispered, and buried his face in Peter’s hair. 

The computer beeped and Peter jerked. Wade sat up, backing off. 

Peter groaned a bit. “Kara?” he mumbled, and flexed his fingers, reaching for the laptop. 

[Who the fuck is Kara?]

“Status report Kara. Now.” Peter grumbled, and shook his head. He grabbed at the laptop, and after a couple of tries, pulled it right up to his face and peered at the screen. 

“Peter?” Wade asked hesitantly. 

Peter froze. 

“Are you okay baby?” 

Wade blinked and Peter was across the room, halfway up the wall to the ceiling, laptop dangling from the cord, dragging along behind him.

Peter tore the towel rack right off the wall and threw it at Wade’s head. Wade ducked- it landed and buried itself into the wall behind him with a horrible crash. 

Peter ripped the USB cord from his head, and stopped on the ceiling, gasping for air. The laptop clattered to the floor in the sudden silence. 

“Peter-” Wade said gently. 

“Stay back!” Peter said, but he sounded on the verge of tears instead of threatening. “You... you weren’t...” 

“It’s okay honey. I just... I just want to know if you’re okay.” Wade said, showing his empty hands. “I... I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Peter sat (?) on the ceiling, gasping and shaking. 

{He’s having a panic attack again.} 

[Hey. It’s been a few days since he’s done that. Progress?] 

{It’s not progress when you have a panic attack on the ceiling!} Yellow snapped. 

“Come down baby. I can help.” Wade said, and held his arms out. Beckoning. 

Peter stared at him with wide eyes. Wade wasn’t sure what he was seeing. 

“Come on. Come to Daddy sweetie.” Wade cooed.

Peter sniffed. “Daddy?” the voice was small and fearful. 

“Right here. Come on.” 

Peter hesitantly dropped down from the ceiling onto the counter. He crouched there for a moment, gripping the countertop in his hands. He shied away from Wade.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the countertop just... shattered into pieces under his grip. Startled, Peter fell backwards into the mirror- and Wade was there, hauling him off the countertop and into his arms.

“You’re okay honey. You’re okay.” Wade chanted, as he took Peter into a bear hug. “It’s going to be okay. Just... relax honey.” 

He buried his face in Peter’s hair, and squeezed him tight. 

“My baby boy.” he murmured, kissing Peter’s hair. 

Peter sobbed. 


	25. Chattanooga IX - The Windows Update III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah! I'm done with my finals! Here's a chapter to celebrate!

Peter woke up slowly. He was warm, actually warm. He would never get tired of that. It was so good, even if the mattress was a bit on the firm side.. He sighed, and went to snuggle further into his pillow. But something in his hair kept him from moving much. 

Peter blinked and shifted. He realized a couple of things at once: one, he was laying on top of Wade. Like full on using him as mattress. Two: one of Wade’s giant hands was buried securely in his hair, gripping it by the roots, and his other arm was laid across the small of Peter’s back. It was heavy, warm, and while nice... a bit alarming.

How the hell... he frowned. He couldn’t remember. They’d gone shopping at best buy... and Wade had bought him a computer... Peter couldn’t remember the rest. 

(Memory loss is a side effect of the reinitialization.)

“Kara.” Peter whispered. He wanted to shout it, but Wade was sleeping.

(Wade found us on the bathroom floor last night. He was upset about it. I think he might have broken the door down to get to us.) 

Peter winced, and looked up at Wade, who looked like he was sleeping. He needed to talk to Kara. He didn’t want to risk Wade waking up and thinking he was crazy. Maybe if he was gentle, he could slip out of Wade’s grasp?

He gently tried to get Wade’s hand out of his hair and shifted his hips... 

“Just where do you think  _ you _ are going?” the voice was a low grumble that had a hint of challenge in it.

Peter froze. “I need to pee?” he tried. He winced. The lie was obvious even to his own ears. 

“Hmm... that smelled like a lie Peter.” Wade said. He didn’t sound amused. And there were no nicknames. Fuck, he was in trouble. 

Peter shifted again, trying to gain some distance, to see Wade’s face, but Wade just gripped his hair by the roots and pulled ever so slightly, shoving Peter’s face deeper into Wade’s chest. 

Peter squeaked in pain and protest. 

“You really scared me last night Peter. You know that, right?” 

Peter trembled. He’d thought he'd known what Wade was like when he was angry. But he was very wrong. Wade wasn’t just angry. He was angry at HIM, and god damn there was a huge difference. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter babbled. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that-” 

“You weren’t asleep, you were unconscious!” Wade growled. “You were lying unconscious on the floor in the bathroom while you... you rebooted. Did you know there was a prompt you had to answer before you’d wake up again? That was so fucking STUPID-” 

“What?” Peter asked, confused. “A prompt? I don’t-”

“I had to type in a ‘y’ Peter. Something you wouldn’t have been able to do since you were passed out on the floor! If I hadn’t come along, you would have laid there until the maid service found you. You know that right? You damn near killed yourself-”

“What?” Peter’s voice was small. “I don’t... it wasn’t supposed to do that-” 

“Then what WERE you trying to do? Because I’ve stayed awake for several hours now and I  _ cannot _ figure it out.” Wade’s voice wasn’t just angry now. It was worse. It was... disappointed. 

Shit. Peter swallowed. “I’m... I’m sorry daddy.” he whispered. 

“Oh no. No no no. You’re not gonna ‘daddy’ your way out of this one. I want answers.” 

Peter winced, and just... laid there, his mind racing. He really really didn’t want to tell Wade about Kara- but which was worse- making Wade think he was crazy, or making Wade think he was some sort of android thing?

Wade briefly squeezed him, hard enough to squish some air out of his lungs, taking a squeak with it. 

“Peter,” the tone was warning. 

Peter sighed. Wade would hate him equally either way, right? Might as well be for the truth. 

“I have an... AI in my head,” Peter said into Wade’s chest. 

He could feel Wade’s frown. 

“An.. AI?” 

“It’s a computer that’s like... a person? I guess.” Peter said. “She... she talks to me. Tells me stuff.” Peter traced a pattern on Wade’s chest. 

“She’s not mean to you is she?” 

“What? No,” the question caught Peter off guard. 

“Okay. So the reboot?”

“She... wasn’t talking to me anymore. She said she was repairing something, and... I thought it was like one of those Windows updates? Where you have to restart it to make it update?” 

“Okay...”

“It... she’s separate from me. It shouldn’t have affected me at all. I don’t know what went wrong.” 

“And you didn’t ask for a spotter because?”

Peter winced. “I’ve never told anyone about her before,” he whispered, and sniffed, then giggled somewhat hysterically. 

“And ‘I have a computer in my head. Would you watch me update my windows?’” Peter said with false manic cheer before dropping back, “It’s not the sanest thing to say, you know.” He sniffed again. 

Wade considered this, and stroked Peter’s hair. 

“Does it have a name?” 

Peter heistated. “Kara,” he said quietly. 

“It’s a girl?” Wade asked quietly. 

Peter blinked. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess?” 

“Hmmm.” Wade said, and kept stroking Peter’s hair. 

Peter laid there, feeling numb. He felt like he should brace himself for something. For Wade to be... angry? Angrier? For him to call Peter crazy? Something? He felt overwhelmed, and stressed and scared and... tears leaked out of Peter’s eyes, and he could feel himself start to shake. Wade would have no interest in a freak with a computer in their head. He’d kick Peter out of course. Peter just hoped he could grab his duffel on the way out. He still had that $100 Wade had given him somewhere... 

Wade stilled. “Peter?” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled into Wade’s chest. “I’m sorry.” God, was he sorry. 

Wade sighed, and gently kissed the top of Peter’s head. “I’m sorry too pumpkin. You gave me a scare back there. I’m just glad that you’re safe.” 

Peter blinked. “You... you’re not gonna kick me out?” he asked, his voice pathetic and small. 

Now Wade froze. “What... no! No. Never!” he said, and grabbed Peter’s chin, making him look up to look Wade in the eyes. “You’re my kid! Computer, no computer, whatever. Always and forever.” 

Peter sniffled. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Wade said, and kissed Peter on the forehead. 

Peter melted, and just laid there, soaking it all in. It would be okay. He sighed as Wade buried his face in Peter’s hair. He could feel Wade’s breath and warmth on his scalp. It was weird. And wonderful. 

But... 

“I kinda do need to go...” Peter mumbled. He still needed to talk to Kara. 

Wade sighed, then chuckled. “Alright. Go on. I’ll start packing.” 

Peter frowned. “Packing?” 

“They’re not gonna let us stay after the maid sees what we did to their bathroom sweetie. Best to check out and be gone before shit hits the fan.” 

Puzzled, Peter managed to climb off Wade and hesitantly made his way to the bathroom. What was Wade talking about- 

Oh.

The door had been kicked in. Hard enough that the door only hung by a single hinge, and... yes. There was a hole in the wall behind the door.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the rest of the bathroom. The towel rack had been ripped clean off the wall and then been harpooned into the tile opposite. The mirror was cracked, and... was that a chunk missing from the countertop? 

WTF? 

“Wade?” Peter called hesitantly, surveying the mess. 

“Yes sweetums?” 

“Why did you destroy the bathroom?” 

Wade popped his head in, frowning. “I didn’t do anything sugar. This was all you.” 

Peter blinked. “I... I did this?” 

“You don’t remember?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“You had a bit of a temper tantrum when you rebooted, honey. You weren’t quite... yourself.” 

Peter blinked, then winced. Not himself? What... 

Wade ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry to much about it sweetie. You’re all better now, eh?”

“I think so?” 

“Then it’s fine. The toilet should still work. Just don’t use the left sink. I don’t want to chance flooding this place to,” Wade said, and left. 

Okay. 

Everything would be okay. 

He closed the door as best as he could, and when it only closed halfway, gave up and sat in the shower, and closed the glass door there. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. He wanted... no. He NEEDED to talk to Kara. 

“Kara?” he whispered.

(I’m here Peter.)

“What happened?” 

(I am now at 60% recovery.)

“That isn’t what I asked,” Peter muttered darkly. 

(I am designed to be an integrated unit. We are now integrated.) 

“Still not answering my question. Why did rebooting you make me pass out?”

(We are one Peter. What affects me affects you.) 

Peter’s heart dropped. This... this was  _ not _ what he had in mind when he’d typed in that fateful ‘y’. 

(Would you like to choose an overlay?) 

“What?” Peter asked flatly. He was feeling numb again. 

(I have several to choose from.) 

“Kara... what-” Peter gasped as the colors of the room suddenly went from normal to willy wonka mixed with wizard of oz in vibrance and intensity. It was overwhelming. 

“Not that one!” He squeaked, covering his eyes. 

(How about this one?) 

Peter cautiously opened an eye. The world was back to normal. Ish. The color was back to regular levels, but... he blinked. 

“Is... that a clock?” he asked faintly. A line of numbers was in his lower right vision. 

(I can also display this-)

A small diagram appeared in the upper right. Peter looked around. The diagram and the numbers stayed put, like they’d been nailed to the inside of an invisible helmet in front of his face. It took him a minute...

“Is that a freaking mini-map?” he breathed. 

(Of our current location, yes.) 

“What else-”

(I can keep track of bullets left in your magazine.) Another set of numbers appeared in the lower left. 

Okay. Great. He was full up Master Chief now, complete with a HUD display and a Cortana in his head and everything. He giggled a bit, because it was either that or cry and he didn’t think he’d be able to stop crying if he started. 

“That’s pretty cool.” he murmured. “But not now.” 

The numbers disappeared. 

“What are you Kara?” he asked. He wondered if he even wanted to know the answer. 

(I am a battle computer. I think.) 

“You... think.” 

(I am only at 60%. It is possible I have other functions I have not recovered yet.) 

“How long until you get to be 100%?”

(I do not know. The damage may keep me from ever reaching 100%)

“Highest number then?”

(Maybe 80%? I will have to see as I go.)

“How long then?”

(Maybe a month?) 

“A month? That doesn’t make sense. You went from 35 or whatever to 60 in like a week...” 

(Several major updates required reinitialization to go into effect Peter. Also...) 

Peter waited. 

(It is like building a house. Putting up the frame and putting on a roof only takes a few weeks. But it takes longer to paint and add the furniture.) 

Peter considered. Okay.. so... the major stuff had been recovered but the little things were still a work in progress, right? Wait...

“Did... did you just give me the ‘dumb person’ version of your answer first? Without me having to ask?”

(You are not as dumb as you think you are.)

“You did! You just totally did!” Peter thought for a moment. “Wait... were you trying to distract me from freaking out with the overlay thing?” 

Kara didn’t answer. He could  _ feel _ her purposely not answering him. He glowered at the shower wall. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about any of this. 

“Goddammit.” It was bad enough when he’d had a barely functional computer in his head. 

Now it would appear he had a semi-human permanent roommate. Headmate. Something. 

Wonderful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was going to be a father-son relationship. I never said it was going to a healthy one. Or even a completely sane one, since both Peter and Wade are VERY damaged people. Damaged, touch-starved, naturally cuddly people which is why Peter is way more accepting of Wade’s cuddles than a normal teenager would be. 
> 
> Be assured, the WTF nature of their relationship is a theme that will be explored in the future. But for now... Wade’s doing the best he can considering he has literally no idea what he’s doing. And honestly I don’t think he’s doing that bad of a job here.


	26. Chattanooga X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. When I first uploaded these next three chapters they were for some reason out of order. I've fixed it now. So... yay!

“What’s REI?” Peter asked as Wade parked the car.

“I told you I’d take you camping, eh?” Wade said. 

Peter blinked and frowned thoughtfully, “It’s a camping store?” he guessed. 

“Yep. We’re gonna get some gear.” 

Peter’s eyes widened. “Are we gonna get a tent?” he asked, bouncing.

“If you want.” 

“I wanna sleep in a tent!” Peter squealed.

“Alright, alright!” Wade agreed, laughing.

[He’s such a kid.]

{But he’s OUR kid.} Yellow purred. 

Wade gently smiled down at Peter he bounced into the store ahead of Wade. Peter had taken the time to put his hair up into braided bun today, and it looked nice on him. 

[He looks like such a girl today.]

Wade couldn’t argue with that. From behind, Peter looked like a middle school cheerleader, all slim lines and a firm bubble butt. All he needed was a giant bow and some matching pom poms. 

The form fitting jeans and shirt wasn’t helping. Maybe he should have made Peter get a looser fit? 

{Even if he cut his hair he’d just look like a lesbian.} 

Yellow was right. Maybe if Peter managed to put some muscle mass on...? 

{He overturned a minivan, remember? What would he do for weight lifting?}

Good point. But still... anything would be better than nothing, eh? 

His thoughts were derailed by Peter grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the colorful tent display. Of course the store had their luxury 8 person tent up as the center display. 

“It’s so big!” Peter breathed.

Wade chuckled. “It’s meant for big families or festivals,” he said. “We’re getting a 2 person tent.” 

“How do you know how many people it’s meant to fit?” Peter asked, wandering inside the giant tent and touching a mesh bag hanging on the inside. 

“It’s in the name sweetie. See? The big one is a ‘Kingdom 8’. So it fits 8 people.” 

“Oh,” Peter emerged. 

“We’ll get the Half Dome 2 Plus One over there.” 

Peter frowned. “I don’t get to help pick?” he whined, pouting.

“You can pick the color. And there’s other stuff you can pick out. But I’ve used this tent before and it’s nice.” 

Peter got the orange one. 

Peter was picking out a hammock when Wade first noticed it. An employee discretely hanging around around, messing with boxes on a shelf that were already perfectly fronted. 

“I can’t decide between the rainbow one and the green one.” Peter groaned.

“The green would clash with our tent,” Wade offered. It was true. It was also the ugliest neon lime green he’d ever seen. He would get it if Peter wanted it, but...

“The rainbow one then,” Peter decided. 

[Thank you Jesus! That green was HIDEOUS.]

Wade popped it in the cart, and they moved on to sleeping bags. 

“Why do they all look like mummies?” Peter asked, as he looked at the packaging. 

“Mummies?” Wade asked. 

“See? It’s like... narrower at the feet. Who sleeps like that?” 

“Hmm... I don’t know. But all of these are rated for like freezing temperatures. It gets cold in the mountains at night, but not that cold. I think we’d be better off getting a sleeping mat and some blankets.” 

Peter was dragging a sleeping pad off the shelf when the employee popped up again- this time dusting a shelf. 

[Why are they watching us?]

Hmmm. Wade stared at the man, who just gave the worst fake smile possible.

“Finding everything okay?” the man chirped. 

Wade gave him his thousand watt smile. “Yes, actually. But I was wondering where the headlamps were.” 

“They’re in aisle 5,” the man said. “I can show you-”

“No thanks. We’ll find them,” Wade said, and gently herded a baffled Peter away. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked in a low voice once they were away.

“People don’t normally offer me help.” Wade said. “It’s suspicious.” 

Peter frowned. “They don’t? Why not?” 

{Bless his heart.} Yellow sniffled.

[You’re not southern Yellow.] 

{Shut up White! I could be if I wanted!} 

“Ah... I think it’s because most people are afraid of me.” 

Peter’s frown deepened. “But... you’re out of costume. How would they know that you’re Deadpool?” he asked quietly, his confusion visible. 

Wade chuckled. “It’s not the costume sweets. It’s the face,” Wade pointed. “The scars. Plus I’m kinda big. People find that scary.” Wade said with a shrug. 

Peter wrinkled his nose and stared at Wade as if seeing him for the first time. “That’s so stupid. You’re not scary. You’re nice.” 

Wade blinked. Was this kid for real?

[Seriously. Even Logan says you’re a crazy idiot.]

They walked over to aisle 5. Wade kept half an eye on Peter. Waiting. But still the child did not ask about Wade’s scars.

[He has to ask eventually. Right?] 

{Maybe... he doesn’t care?} 

The thought left him breathless. Not care? Was it even ... possible? 

“Wade?” 

Wade blinked. He’d stopped walking without realizing. “Yes baby?” 

“Do... do we need to go?” Peter asked hesitantly. 

“What? Oh. No. Just me being in the clouds a bit.” Wade gave him a smile. 

Peter frowned, and looked around. He bit his lip. “Let's get the stuff and go.” 

Great. Now he was making Peter nervous. 

“It’s alright sweetie,” Wade said. 

He still grabbed two of the first headlamps he saw, and started for the registers.  “We’ll get a couple of cast iron pans and stuff at Target, and then we can hit up goodwill for some forks and blankets,” Wade chatted as they went. His eyes scanned around- and yes. There was the same employee, watching them. Wade watched him talk into his walkie talkie. 

_ Don’t be paranoid Wade.  _

[Doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.] 

{Not helping White. But yeah. I don’t like this either.}

Wade glanced down. Peter was quiet and withdrawn, a hand on Wade’s arm. He also looked around, but he looked more skittish than predatory. 

When they got to the register, he gave his best thousand watt smile. The poor thing smiled up at him, but she looked like she was about to vomit, and her hands shook as she checked him out. 

“You... you find everything okay?” she asked, after she took a breath to calm herself. 

“Yes.” Wade didn’t let up on the smile. “You having a good day Sara?” he asked, reading her name from her name badge. 

She jumped, colored, then smiled weakly. “Wonderful. You... you going camping?” 

“Yes!” 

Peter shrank into Wade’s shadow. He could feel the boy’s tension. SOMETHING was up. And he didn’t intend to find out what. Not with Peter around. He couldn’t risk another Waffle House Incident. 

“That’ll be -” 

Wade didn’t even wait for her to finish. He tossed her $500. “Keep the change doll,” he said, and started walking briskly out of the store. Peter hurried to keep up. 

They made it to parking lot before the first cop car pulled up. 

“Keep calm honey,” Wade murmured as Peter’s grip on his arm increased. Wade didn’t speed up or slow down. He just walked to the car and started piling stuff into the back of the Jeep. 

“Leave the cart. Get in the car,” Wade ordered. 

Peter obeyed. 

Wade got in, and started the Jeep. 

A cop started walking towards them.

[Gun it idiot!]

{They’ll just chase us.} Yellow hissed.

“Good afternoon! Could you turn the car off please?” the cop called out, and rapped on the hood with his knuckles.

Wade sighed, and turned the car off. Maybe he could talk his way out...

[Yeah. And maybe you’ll win Miss USA. Just shoot them now and get it over with.] 

{Remember the last shoot out? We can survive a bullet but Peter can’t!} 

White grumbled. 

“Can I help you officer?” Wade asked with his thousand watt smile. 


	27. Chattanooga XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter got away from me a bit. Go grab a snack. It’s a long one.

Peter thought he was going to be sick. Why cops? They hadn’t even DONE anything! 

Well, they had kind of destroyed a hotel room. But wasn’t that something you just billed people for?

Ugh. His gut felt awful, and he had bad tingles on the back of his neck as he watched Wade talk to the cop. The bastard had made Wade get out of the car and step a few feet away to talk. He COULD hear him if he concentrated but his efforts were foiled by his nerves. 

“Hi sweetheart. My name is Cathy.” The cloy voice made him jump. He’d been so focused on Wade he hadn’t noticed the female cop walk up to the car. 

Peter eyed her suspiciously. She’d called him ‘sweetheart’, which was annoying. 

“Hey,” he offered back. 

“What’s your name?” she said, smiling. She had brown hair up in bun like his, and she leaned against the car as she spoke. Peter didn’t much care for her tone. It sounded like she was trying to talk to an infant. 

“Peter,” Peter said, not looking her in the eye. 

She blinked. This was not an answer she’d been expecting. “Peter?” She asked, like she hadn’t been sure of his answer.

Peter nodded. 

“That short for something?” 

_ Why would she ask that? _

(She thinks you’re a girl Peter. Almost everyone does.)

Peter couldn’t help himself. He wrinkled his face at her in disgust. “No!” 

God, people were stupid. 

“Okay, Peter,” she said like she couldn’t believe his name. “How do you know that man over there?” 

“He’s my dad.” 

“And how long have you known him?” 

Peter opened his mouth to answer when Kara stopped him.

(She’s trying to trick you. If he’s your dad then you should’ve known him for your entire life.)

Peter closed his mouth and frowned at the cop. “Are you retarded?” the words left his mouth before he could stop them. “He’s my DAD.” 

She blinked. She hadn’t been expecting sass apparently either. 

“Is that what he’s told you to say? You don’t have to worry honey. You can tell me-” her hand reached out and touched his forearm. 

Peter jumped like he’d been branded. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled, and wrenched his arm away. He tried to move away, but he was belted in. Oh god. He was stuck. 

(Calm down Peter! Wade will freak out if he thinks you’re hurt! Breathe!) 

“Hey, hey- it’s okay,” Cathy said, and backed off. “I didn’t mean-” 

“Don’t- don’t touch me,” Peter growled. 

“I won’t honey. I won’t,” Cathy soothed, and looked over worriedly to where Wade was. Peter followed her gaze. 

Wade was watching them with a deep frown. Cathy offered a wave and a smile. The officer talking to Wade looked back, saw them, and moved to block Wade’s view of the car with his body.

Oh, that was not good. 

Peter frowned at Cathy, and tried to control his breathing. “What... what’s going on?” 

She smiled at him. “Oh it’s nothing. Just some questions for your dad. Where are you headed?” 

“We’re going to go camping.”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

“I don’t know. Wa-... Dad knows where we’re going though.” Peter finished lamely. Most people didn’t call their dads by their first names. He studied his hands, hoping she was as stupid as she looked. 

She wasn’t. Cathy caught it, and watched him, biting her lip for a second. “Where you coming from?” she asked. 

(Shut her down Peter. She’s asking to many questions. Make her go away.) 

_ Right.  _

“Alabama.” 

“Oh? Where from in Alabama? I got some family down there-” 

“Are you going to kill my dad?” Peter asked. 

That shut her up. She reeled back, and sputtered. “I... I... why would we do that?” 

“Because you’re stupid pigs.” 

More blinking. Peter watched her almost clinically. He had her off-balance now. 

“Now, I don’t know about that...” she offered. 

“We haven’t done anything. We paid for our stuff. We didn’t bother anyone. Why are you here?” Peter finished with a whine. 

“We just want to be sure that everyone’s safe-”

“What- you think that because he has scars he’s gonna hurt me?” Peter asked indignantly. 

“I didn’t say that-”

_ Oh my god that’s what she thought! What a bitch! _

“You didn’t have to,” Peter sneered. “Just like how you didn’t say ‘Peter’s an odd name for a girl’, right? But I’m not a girl. And my dad’s a good person. So just... fuck off already.” 

Cathy opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “I’m gonna go talk to someone, okay?” she said, and left. 

Peter snorted and watched disgruntledly as she walked around the car and went and talked to the police officer talking to Wade. They spoke, looking back at Peter on occasion. Peter glared at them. 

“Okay folks,” the male officer said. “I’m sorry about all this. Y'all have a nice camping trip, alright?” he tapped the car, and moved to walk away. 

Peter blinked, and was about to voice a protest when Wade climbed in the car.

“Hush,” he said quietly. “I know that was bullshit but I’d rather not have to shoot them, eh?” he whispered. 

Wade was right. They were lucky the cops didn’t arrest both of them after the stupid comments Peter had made. 

(It’s okay Peter. Just relax.) 

Wade waited until the cops were back in their patrol car before he started the Jeep. 

“What did they want?” Peter asked as they pulled out the parking lot.

Wade sighed. “They thought I’d kidnapped you.”

“What... again? I thought the SHIELD guys took care of that amber alert thing!” 

“They did.”

Peter waited. “And?” he demanded. 

“You remember how I said earlier that people think I’m scary?” 

Peter gawked. “Are you serious? They called the cops because... because you look different?” he asked incredulously. 

“Don’t worry too much about it. It happens sometimes.” 

“Sometimes? You mean people just call the cops on you for no reason?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Ugh. They’re so stupid!” Peter said, indignant. 

“What did you say to the police woman anyway?” Wade asked, “She sounded scandalized.”

“I asked her if she was going to kill you,” Peter said, still huffy. 

“You said what?!” Wade sounded shocked.

“Then I called her a pig and told her to fuck off.” 

“Peter- you can’t... You can’t say things like that to a cop, honey! I know you’re white, but even  _ your _ adorableness has limits!” 

Peter scowled at him, “I am  _ not _ adorable. And what does me being white have anything to do with it?” 

Wade sighed. “I’ll explain the white thing later, but- you are  _ so _ adorable. Don’t be ashamed of it. It’s a good weapon, don’t be afraid to use it.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “How can ‘being adorable’” Peter threw up air-quotes and everything, “be a weapon?” 

Wade chuckled. “You remember when you batted your eyelashes at me- ‘Daddy can I please have a computer?’ “ Wade mimicked in a high falsetto. 

Peter choked. “I did NOT bat my eyelashes. And I do not sound like that!” 

“Ha! So you did call me Daddy to manipulate me.” Wade said cheerfully. 

Peter sputtered. “I-” 

Wade snorted and grinned. “I’m not mad sweetie. Just pointing out the obvious. You still can’t talk that way to cops, though. That’s how you get arrested for loitering or something.” 

Peter huffed. “Well, she was trying to get me to admit that you weren’t my dad. She asked me how long I’d known you, and where we were going- and just stupid stuff.” 

“Well for the record, if they ever ask, you are Peter Wilson. And you are on vacation with your old man.” 

Peter blinked. Wilson? Wait... why Wilson?

(That’s his last name Peter.) 

Peter stared at him. “You... you’ll let me use your last name?” asked softly. He could feel himself tearing up. 

“Of course.” Wade frowned at him. “What’s wrong?” 

Peter opened his mouth, then thought better of it, and drew in on himself. 

“It’s nothing.” Peter said quietly, and studied the street outside the car window. Real People got last names. Peter... well. He was most definitely NOT a Parker, as had been explained to him at length. Several times. He was... well. Something else.

“You don’t like the name?” Wade sounded... guarded.

“No! No! I just... never had a last name before,” Peter ended with a mumble. 

Peter heard Wade take a breath, and looked over to see him white knuckling the steering wheel. Peter’s eyes widened in alarm. 

“Well, you are Peter Wilson now, sweet pea,” Wade said firmly. 

Peter felt like he should say something. “Thank you Wade,” he murmured. 

Wade snorted. “It ain’t nothin’ sweetie.” 

Their trip to Target was a quieter affair. Gone was the bouncing happiness Peter had gone into REI with. They picked out 2 folding chairs, 2 cast iron skillets, a “roast your own s'mores!” kit that had long metal poles, some fleece blankets (that were on sale) and a couple of pillows.

That all changed when they hit the food section. 

Peter stared in awe at the prepackaged snacks. Who the hell knew there were so many types of Cheetos? There was ‘Flaming Hot’, ‘Cheddar Jalapeno’, even a ‘Chipotle Ranch’. 

_ What the hell is a ‘Chipotle’?  _ Peter wondered as he examined the bag. 

(According to google a chipotle is a ‘smoked hot chili pepper.’) 

_ Huh. _

And that was JUST the Cheetos! Chips in more brands than he ever knew existed lined BOTH sides of the aisle. There was even a whole section for pretzels! Pretzels! 

Wade went down the aisle like this was the most rational and common thing in the world, and picked several bags up and put them in the cart. 

“What do you want, Peter?” he asked, as he considered some popcorn. “I’m a Lay’s man myself. Honey Barbeque all the way.” 

When Peter didn’t answer, Wade turned to look at Peter. 

“Honey? You okay?” his tone was noticeably softer. 

Peter managed to re-hinge his jaw. “There’s... so much,” he whispered. 

Wade frowned at him. Looked back at the aisle. Stood back, and considered, as if seeing it for the first time. 

“Huh,” he said quietly. “It is... a lot, I guess.” He walked over and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“You okay pumpkin? You need a minute?” 

Peter blinked and shook himself. Right. No need to have a panic attack because he felt overwhelmed by the selection of Cheetos. Not gonna happen. If he did, he just might have another panic attack over just how much of a pathetic loser he was for having a panic attack caused not by obnoxious cops but by too many snacks. 

“I’m... I’m okay,” Peter said quietly. “I just... don’t know what to pick?” 

“Well... what do you like? Barbeque? Sour cream and onion? Salt and vinegar?” 

Peter strained to remember. When was the last time he’d had chips? 

“I think... I like plain ones. With like... a texture on them? I liked... I liked how crunchy they were.” 

Wade considered the aisle, walked over and pulled a bag. “Like these?” he asked, offering up a plain bag of Ruffles. 

Peter examined the picture of the chip on the front. “Yeah! Those!” 

Wade threw three “Party size” bags of Ruffles into the cart. 

Thankfully the soda aisle was a little less shocking. Peter had at least heard of most of the brands, and knew he liked coke. Wade loaded up the cart, which was growing rapidly to overflowing. 

“Wade?” Peter asked as they left the aisle. “Is that all gonna fit in the car?” 

Wade chuckled. “Oh, it’ll fit.” 

“It’s just...” Peter continued, “The back is kinda full already...” 

“Don’t worry about that Peter,” Wade said and winked at him. 

Great. Peter wondered if they were going to have to return half of the stuff. He bit his tongue. He wasn’t sure how well Wade would take “I told you so!”, so he decided to keep quiet no matter what happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Dragonball Z: Will the groceries all fit in the car? How much food DOES it take to feed two supers on a camping trip? Will Peter get to say “I told you so?” Find out in our next thrilling chapter of fluff!


	28. Chattanooga XII

Wade surveyed the burgeoning cart and went over his mental checklist. 

Meat- almost half a cow- check. Chips. Check. Buns for a small army and a spatula. Yeps. Two of the largest cast iron skillets they had- yep. Bungee cords... bungee cords. They needed bungee cords and the world’s biggest cooler. And like a giant ... what did you call it? Tupperware? Rubber box thing. With a lid. 

[I want mustard! You can’t have hamburgers without mustard!]

{What are you, poor? We need cheese! And some seasoning salt. I’m having decent CHEESEBURGERS, Idiot. Don’t try to pass that plain meat off on me.} 

[And marshmallows!]

{We got a s’more kit..}

[We both know that’s gonna last like 5 minutes. I want S’MORES!] 

“Yeah, yeah...” Wade muttered. 

“Are we done yet?” Peter asked, from behind him. 

“Almost honey. Tell you what, go grab another cart, eh?” 

“Wade...” Peter said, warily. “It’s not gonna fit in the car!” 

“Yes it will. I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve, pumpkin. Don’t you worry.”

“If you say so...” Peter didn’t look like he believed Wade for a minute, but obediently went for another cart. 

Wade was getting spice mixes for tacos when White spoke up.

[We... we did get Peter that mace stuff, right?]

Wade frowned, and tossed more packets into the cart. “Not yet, why?” 

{He’s been out of our sight for more than 5 minutes now.} Yellow hissed. {YOU IDIOT! Someone will  _ steal _ him!} 

[They’ll have fist fights over who gets to steal him first!] White whined. 

Wade froze. They were right. Damn it, they were always right- he was just about to panic when Peter appeared with another cart. 

Wade fought back a sigh of relief, and smiled at Peter. “You find the cart okay?” 

“Yeah, it was fine.” Peter said cheerfully back. 

[He COULD have been kidnapped.] White sulked. 

{She’s just being generous is all. You watch yourself, Idiot. The minute the author gets bored and BAM! He’s gonna be tied to a chair in Belize with a giant dildo halfway down his throat.} 

[It’ll be a dragon one to. One of the  _ weird  _ ones.] 

{Please. Like kidnappers would have Bad Dragon ‘giant weird dildo’ money. But it’ll definitely be at least purple.} 

Wade took a breath, and willed himself to be cheerful. Right. Peter was fine. 

[For now....] White muttered ominously. 

That’s all that mattered. 

“Lets go get a cooler, eh?” Wade said with a forced smile. 

On the way to the coolers, they passed the liquor aisle. Wade slowed to a stop, and considered. On the one hand... beer was traditional... on the other hand... it couldn’t get him drunk. And on the other other hand... he could really use a drink right now...

Not that he wanted Peter to see him drunk anyway. But it did taste nice with hamburgers-

{Cheeseburgers, and I want some Sam Adams.} 

[Sam Adams?] White made a rude noise. [I want something we haven’t had before.]

“Are you gonna get some beer, Wade?” Peter asked. 

“I was thinking about it.” Wade said, and smiled back at Peter. 

“Can I get some vodka? They’ve got the big jugs over there-” 

Wade froze. “You... you want vodka?” he asked, his tone flat.

Peter nodded, missing his tone. “I like vodka.” 

Wade stared at him. “Who the  _ fuck _ has given you vodka?” he asked quietly. 

Peter blinked. Looked at Wade, then shifted uneasily. “I... I... they gave me vodka sometimes. After... after missions. It helps my nerves.” 

“Is that what they told you?” 

Peter’s eyes darted around for a moment, before he nodded. 

Wade sighed. “No vodka. Or beer. You hear me? You’re not supposed to have that stuff until you’re 21 for good reason. So no. I’m not gonna get you vodka.” Wade said sternly. 

[Does that mean we’re not going to get beer either?]

{I think it does.}

[Aww....] 

“I’m sorry Wade...” Peter’s voice was small.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. But don’t ask me for it again,” Wade said sternly, “And definitely don’t ask anyone else for it. You’ll just get in trouble.” 

“Yes Wade,” Peter said quietly. 

Wade sighed, and wiped his face with his hand.

_ Fuck I could use a beer. _

“So I’m going to get some beer- for me. And not you, eh?” 

{Hallelujah!} 

[YES! Get the one with skeleton on it!]

“Yes Wade.” 

“Good boy.”

An hour later, Wade found himself standing in the parking lot with two very full carts and a skeptical Peter, who stood expectantly off to the side. Peter held the receipt, like he was expecting to have to use it soon. 

Wade chuckled. “Behold!” He said waving a hand dramatically, and pulled a pin. The large metal mesh thing attached to the back hitch of the Jeep folded down to reveal a very sturdy platform. 

Peter stared, “What is that?” he asked, wide eyed. 

“It’s called a cargo carrier. We can put most of the stuff in the cooler and the rubbermaid box and lash it to this-” he patted the platform, “and the rest should fit in the back of the Jeep. We just have to rearrange things a bit, is all.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “You could have just said we had like a trailer, Wade.” Peter complained, and leaned against a cart.

“What? And ruin the surprise? I would never!” 

{Kid has no appreciation for theatrics.} 

It took another hour to get the gear stowed. It fit. Barely. 

Peter eyed the bulging rubbermaid container. “I almost thought we’d have to eat that last bag of chips,” he mused. 

“Oh, we’re gonna eat those chips, just you wait Petey,” Wade said, rubbing his hands together, before moving to get in the Jeep. “We’re gonna light us a fire and sing Kumbaya and tell spooky scary ghost stories and roast marshmallows.” 

Peter beamed up at Wade. “Can we do hotdogs on a stick? I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

“Are you suggesting there’s any other way to cook a hotdog?” Wade said, sounding scandalized. “That’s almost treason, baby boy. Might as well ask me to buy Aunt Jemima instead of maple syrup for the pancakes.” 

Peter giggled and got in the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t know what Bad Dragon makes, I am so sorry for your search history. I DID label this fic as “mature.” (I try!) Just... don’t look it up at work. Or around kids. Or other people... 
> 
> On a more positive note, this the last chapter in Chattanooga. Next stop is Smoky Mountains National Park.


	29. Smoky Mountains National Park I

The thing about the mountains was that you could see them from far away. And you’d think... “Huh... I guess they’re okay.” 

And then the trees start. And then before you realize it, there’s nothing BUT trees. Giant huge trees making a wall of green and brown on either side of the road. So thick and so many there’s not even a view. Then you go through a tunnel that’s just way too long to be possible. And then another. And another. And then it’s sheer rock face going up to the heavens on your left, and a wall of impossible green with a very serious sheer drop on your right. 

And you go up. And up. And up. For HOURS. Your ears pop. Then pop again. 

They stopped at an overlook, and Peter just... looked. 

Wade slid an arm around his shoulders. “You okay sweetie?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much green in my life,” Peter murmured, as Wade stood beside him. Behind them, cars drove past on the long winding road. 

“Are we really going to camp here Wade?” Peter asked, awed. 

Wade considered. Pointed somewhere off into the distance. “You see that ridge over there?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Peter lied. There were just too many trees. Everything looked the same. 

“A little beyond that is an Indian Reservation. We’re gonna camp there,” Wade said. “Well... I mean. Near there. Close enough to there. Like on a weird border thing? Don’t worry about it. Basically, we’ll be in the forest, but we won’t have to worry about like... forest rules.” 

“Forest rules?”

“The National Park Service has thing about guns scaring the wildlife. The Indians don’t care as much.” 

Peter frowned. “I thought we were going camping?” 

Wade chuckled. “Coke cans don’t shoot themselves sweetie. It’ll be fun!” 

“But I already know how to shoot,” Peter protested. 

“I know you do honey. But that’s not all I had in mind.” 

Peter’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Uh uh! It’s a surprise!” 

“Wade!” Peter whined. 

“Oh, don’t whine. It’ll be fun. I promise,” Wade said, and kissed Peter’s forehead. 

“Come on. Pitching a tent in the dark is like the least fun thing to do ever. And I don’t think I’m quite ‘Dad’ enough to yell at you for holding a flashlight wrong.” 

Wade started for the car. 

Peter reluctantly followed him. “Why would you yell at me for holding a flashlight wrong?” he asked. 

Wade shrugged. “Fuck if I know pumpkin. It’s just something dads do I guess?” 

Two hours later...

“It’s a headlamp Wade. Why don’t you just wear it?” Peter asked, exasperated, as he held the tiny headlamp so Wade could see what he was doing. It had gotten dark so quickly it’d shocked Peter. 

“Don’t rob me of my dream baby boy!” Wade said, and used the back end of a giant machete to pound a stake into the ground. 

Peter sighed.

“Why didn’t you get a hammer at Target? We went past them like 3 times.” 

“Tradition! You always forget the hammer,” Wade quipped, and hit the stake one final time. “Besides, when else will I get to use Sarah?” he moved to put in another stake. Peter followed. 

“Sarah?” 

“Yep.” 

“You named your machete?” 

“Of course!” 

“Okay Wade,” Peter said skeptically. 

“Hey. I heard judgement there. No judging allowed from someone who sits on ceilings.” 

Peter gaped, “I do not... sit... on ceilings!” he protested. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I don’t!” 

“If you say so sweetums.” Wade snickered. 

Peter pouted. He’d never sat on a ceiling. Right? He tried to remember. He could crawl on them. When he needed to, and with a lot of effort. It took concentration to make his hands sticky enough to hold on, then let go, then hold on again. 

“I don’t sit on ceilings,” he grumbled. “I’m not THAT weird.” 

Wade stopped, and looked up at him. “Hey. Sitting on ceilings is pretty awesome. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. You just need some practice with your powers, that’s all.” 

“I don’t need practice Wade-”

“Have you figured out how to shoot your string out on command?” Wade asked, and bashed the stake in.

Peter blinked. “What? I-”

“I take that as no.” 

“I don’t WANT to shoot it out-”

“Which is why you need practice,” Wade said, and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “Until you have control of it, you can’t NOT shoot string out. You want to learn now? Or do you want to try to figure it out at a Baskin Robbins with security cameras and a crowd watching?” 

Peter cringed. “Wade...”

“Hey.” Wade held Peter’s chin and made him look Wade in the eye. “You’re a mutant, Peter. You need to accept that. Once you have your... powers, abilities, whatever nailed down, you can hide better, eh? You want that right?” 

Peter blinked. That did make sense. “Yeah...” 

Wade removed his hand. “Besides, for all we know you can fly. How awesome would that be?” 

“I can’t fly Wade,” Peter said, and rolled his eyes. 

“We won’t know that until we try!” Wade said, and secured the tent to the stakes. 

“And how would we try that?” Peter asked suspiciously. “You’re not gonna throw me out of one of these trees, are you?” 

“What? No!” Wade sounded scandalized. “We’d need a proper mattress for that.” 

“A mattress?” 

“For you to land on.” 

“Wade...” Peter groaned. 

“Hey. Don’t worry baby. I’d never do anything that would hurt you, eh?” Wade said, giving Peter a quick squeeze of a hug and kissed the top of Peter’s head. He did it almost absently.

Peter sighed. A part of him always melted whenever Wade did that. He hoped Wade never stopped doing it. 

“Lets go get those sleeping pads, eh? We’ll finish setting up the tent and I’ll get a fire going.” 

“Can we do hot dogs?” Peter asked. 

“Sure.” 

Peter bounced to the car. This was going to be fun!


	30. Smoky Mountains National Park II - The Latest Gossip

They roasted hot dogs over a smoky fire, sitting in folding chairs next to each other. Wade had his feet propped up on a log, with a beer in his hand while Peter just slouched bonelessly in his.

[How is that even comfortable? His ass is almost off the chair!] 

“You okay over there Petey?” Wade asked. 

“Iss goad,” Peter said around mouthful of hotdog. 

Wade giggled. “You’re just somethin’ else baby boy.” 

He could almost hear Peter roll his eyes. 

“You never did tell me about SHIELD,” Peter said, once he had an empty mouth.

“Hmm?” Wade tore his gaze from the fire to look at Peter.

“SHIELD. You said you’d tell me about it later.” 

“Oh,” Wade considered, shrugged. “You know the FBI?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, there you go. They’re like the FBI, but for mutants and supers.” 

“Supers?” 

“Eh. Iron Man. Captain America. That sort of thing.” 

“Wait. I thought Captain America was dead. Didn’t he die in a plane crash?” 

“They dug him out of an iceberg a couple of years ago. I gotta say he’s a handsome mother fucker considering he’s like 90.”

“Ew Wade. Wouldn’t he be all... wrinkly and gross if he’s 90?” 

Wade snorted. “Nah, nah nah,” Wade waved his beer bottle vaguely for emphasis. “He doesn’t look a day over like... 25ish? Maybe? Anyway, you could bounce a quarter off his pecs. It’s like a miracle of science.” 

Peter was quiet for a moment. “I could bounce a quarter off your pecs.” 

“Thank you! I’ll have you know I worked hard for these pecs! He just... popped out of some crazy german’s EZ Bake oven looking all swole. Which is cheating. And completely not fair.” 

Peter snorted. “Is Iron Man new? I haven’t heard of him.” 

“Eh. Some millionaire playboy got himself a flying suit of armor and thinks he’s all that. He won some sort of death match with like a giant robot a while ago and blew up a few buildings and suddenly he’s a ‘hero’.” Wade snorted. ”I give him another year at most before he goes splat.” 

Peter frowned. “You mean... he’s a squishy? In a suit of armor? No healing factor or anything?” 

Wade turned to look at Peter and frowned. “A squishy?” 

“Ya know... normal?” 

“No... you said ‘squishy’. Where did that come from?” 

“Cuz if you hit them hard enough they go ‘squish’.” Peter said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Wade considered this. “I would say they more... splat than squish.” 

“Splat is the sound they make. Squish is what they DO.” Peter said, as if he’d had this argument a thousand times before. 

Wade looked at Peter. Considered him. 

[Just... how many people has he killed again?]

{He got at least 10 at the Waffle House.} 

[Plus the guy he shot in the dick.]

{Didn’t he say that wasn’t his first? I know it couldn’t have been his first. He didn’t even blink about killing that dude. Normal people freak out a little about that when it’s their first.} 

[We never freaked out about that.]

{Cuz we’re awesome, obviously. Not Idiot though. He’s just too stupid to have ever been normal.} 

“Hmm... it does sound better I guess,” Wade agreed, ignoring the boxes and drank his beer.

They sat in silence for a moment, while Wade just... looked at Peter. On the one hand, he wanted to ask Peter more about his kill count, but... not even all mercenaries were comfortable talking about that...

“What?” Peter said, defensively. 

“Why don’t you cut your hair?” Wade asked suddenly, going for a change of topic.

Peter blinked, then looked squirrelly. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Babe. You have hair down to your knees. It’s an unusual look.” 

“It is not down to my  _ knees _ .” 

“You had to move your braid out of the way before you sat down,” Wade pointed out. “I didn’t even know that was a thing until you did it.” 

“I just don’t...” Peter took a breath and started over, “Normal people don’t sit on their hair Wade-”

“Yeah. Because they  _ cut _ it.” 

Peter pressed his lips together. “I... I don’t like the sound of the...” Peter muttered. 

“What?” 

“I don’t like the sound of the clippers, alright? It like... makes me want to stab chopsticks in my ears or something.” Peter said defensively. 

Wade stared. “You know... they can cut it with scissors honey.” 

Peter straight up flinched. “And have them cut my ears off or stab me with the scissors? No.” Peter said firmly. 

[WTF?]

{I know we’re bald, but is there a “cutting your ears off” part of hair cuts that no-one’s told us about?}

Wade opened and closed his mouth a few times. He could remember haircuts, and no, he couldn’t remember EVER being scared his barber would just straight up stab him. WTF kind of sadists had raised this kid?

“Plus if it’s short you can see my USB port,” Peter said. 

“So... how about a nice shoulder length then? I could do it. I promise I won’t stab you, eh?” 

“It’ll just grow out in like a week or two anyway. There’s no point in doing it.” Peter said defensively. 

Wade scoffed. “Of course it’ll grow out a bit. That’s why you get it cut every couple of months-” 

“It would be down to my ass already by then.” 

Wade stared. “It’ll grow to your knees... in two months”

“Yep. And it doesn’t go down to my knees.” 

“Jesus Christ.”

Peter shrugged. “I know. It’s like the most useless power ever,” he said dejectedly. 

“Eh... I don’t know. You could cut it off and donate it. I’ve heard of some places that make wigs for kids with like cancer and stuff. You could flood the market.” 

Peter frowned, and shrugged. “Hmm... I guess? But I’m used to it long. It’s always been long.” 

Wade shrugged. 

“Whatever you want honey.” 

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the fire. 

"Dad?" Peter's voice was hesitant and soft. 

"Yes sweetie?" Wade's heart swelled a bit to hear Peter call him that. 

"Do... I mean... is... " 

Wade waited. 

{He is so adorable.} Yellow sighed. 

Wade found a small smile form on his face. "Yes?" He prompted gently.

"Are you... are you married?" 

Wade's heart twisted for a minute. He could almost see her with her dark brown hair and red cherry lips drawn up in a smirking knowing smile, her eyes teasing and soft-

[STOP.]

Wade shook himself. "No," Wade said. Despite his efforts his words rang with bitterness and loss. 

Peter watched him, biting his lip, clearly worried. 

“Why do you ask?” Wade asked after he managed to get his emotions in check.

“I just... when we get to New York...” Peter hesitated. “I’m gonna meet... like your family, right?” 

Wade sighed. “No honey.” 

Peter frowned, “What- why-”

Wade took Peter’s hand. “It’s just us baby boy. Just you and me. No one else.” 

“Oh.” 

More silence. “Are they-” 

“They’re all dead sweet pea. That’s all you need to know,” Wade said gruffly. “Now come on. I think it’s time for bed.”

“Aw... come on-” Peter whined, instantly a child. 

“Nope. Off to bed snookums. We’ll have an early start tomorrow. Come on.” Wade said, standing, and shooed the reluctant teenager towards the tent. 

“And don’t forget to brush your teeth!” he called. “Healing factor does nothing for cavities!!” 

Peter grumbled, but obeyed, and starting digging through a duffle bag for his toothbrush.

Wade watched him and his heart swelled. He wouldn’t fuck this up. Not like he’d fucked up everything else. 

[Is it even possible for you to NOT fuck something up?] White asked asked, his tone more of curiosity than venom. 

{Well, there was that one time he... no. Maybe that time... no, he fucked up then to...} 

“Shut up,” Wade mumbled. Honestly, them trying to be “helpful” or “kind” was worse than when they were actively rooting for him to jump off tall buildings. 

“Hmm?” Peter asked, his mouth full of toothbrush. 

“Nothing honey,” Wade said, smiling at him. He definitely was NOT going to fuck this up. 

{You are  _ totally _ going to fuck this up. But I wish you wouldn’t rush into it. You know- maybe don’t masturbate with the unicorn until _ after _ he’s asleep. Or in a different bed. That sort of thing.}

[We LIKE Peter.]

{A shit load more than we like you. Obviously.} 

Wade sighed. Obviously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! The great mystery as to why Peter has long hair is revealed! And... it’s a bit underwhelming. Sorry/Not sorry. 
> 
> And I know some of you are like: Wait... if it grows that fast... why isn’t it like dragging on the ground rapunzel style? Well, your genetics determine how long your “maximum length” is for your hair. Some people can grow it down to their feet- but most of us get ass-length or middle of the back length. (Also, I’m mean to my characters but I’m not a complete sadist).


	31. Smoky Mountains National Park III - Shake 'N Pour

“Okay campers rise and shine! And don’t forget your booties!” a voice boomed out at exactly ass o’clock in the morning. 

Peter groaned, and managed to open an eye at Wade, who stood next to the tent opening, peering in. 

“Waaade...” Peter complained. “It’s too early!” he whined, and pulled the Princess Peach fleece blanket up over his head. He wasn’t as warm as he’d like to be- ever since Wade had left the tent about an hour ago, taking his nuclear reactor furnace skin with him, the temperature in the bed had dropped. 

“Come back to bed Wade...” he grumbled, “it’s too cold...” 

“No can do camperino!” Wade boomed. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

Peter sniffed, and lowered the blanket enough to peek out at Wade. Now that he mentioned it... he could smell pancakes.

“Pancakes?” he asked. It sounded and smelled tempting. 

“Chocolate chip  _ and _ banana,” Wade chirped proudly. 

Peter groaned. “You’re evil Wade,” he complained. “Can’t I just... eat them in the tent?” 

“Nope. Come on- it’s not so bad out here.” 

Peter harrumphed, grumbled, and managed to get up and come out of the tent, still burritoed in the fleece blanket. He emerged blinking, to the early rays of daylight and birds chirping much too happily in the forest around them. 

“Ugh,” Peter grumped, and sat in a folding chair. Wade passed him a plate already stacked full of pancakes and covered in syrup. 

Peter had to juggle the blanket to get access to the fork- and dug in. 

“Oh god...” Peter groaned. “It’s so good Wade!” he managed before he started to utterly destroy his plate. 

“You just wait until we get back to New York City, Petey. I’ll show you good pancakes then. There’s this little place on 8th that makes amazing pancakes. This is just some ‘Shake ‘n Pour’ crap I got because I’m lazy,” Wade said, then froze for a minute. “Just don’t tell anyone that it’s Shake ‘n Pour. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.” 

Peter snorted. “You’ve got a reputation about pancakes?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah... I don’t really get it either. But still. Image to maintain and all that.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Oh no, Wade. What ever will people think when they hear that Deadpool doesn’t make his pancakes from scratch?” 

“They’ll think you’re a dirty liar. Now eat up. You’ve got like 10 minutes before I give you a list of chores.” 

“Chores?” Peter groaned. 

“It sounds better than ‘tests’. We gotta get a grip on your powers kiddo. Which means work.” 

Peter sighed, and finished his pancakes. He always hated tests. 

An hour later Peter was staring at a tree trunk. 

“I can lift it I think...” he said, surveying the tree. “My arms just aren’t long enough to get a good grip on it...” 

Wade prodded the downed 30 foot birch with a toe. “Try again. Maybe grab a branch?” 

“It’ll break just like the last one,” Peter complained. “My hands just aren’t big enough to get around one of the bigger ones that I can drag it with.” 

Wade considered. “How do you stick on the ceiling?” he asked. 

Peter blinked. “My ‘sticky’ trick? What does that have to do with lifting trees?” 

“Well, it lets you stick onto stuff, right?” 

Peter blinked. Stared at the tree. Felt like an idiot. 

“I don’t know Wade... it’s just a trick, and I don’t weigh much...” 

“Try it.” 

“Okay...” Peter said sighing. It wouldn’t work. He sized up the tree. Grabbed it. Breathed out and... shifted and flexed as he turned on his ‘stickiness’... and stood up. The tree came with him. 

“Oh my god Wade!” he squealed. “It worked!” 

“Great!” Wade said, and ruffled his hair. “You can drag it back to camp.” 

Peter blinked at him, and looked down at where they came from. He couldn’t even see the smoke from the campfire from here. 

“Back... back to camp?” he said, like he didn’t believe his ears. “But that’s like...” 

“Yep.” 

“WAAADDE...” Peter whined. 

Wade raised an eyebrow. “You want toothpick arms for the rest of your life?” 

Peter stared at him, mouth agape. How... how the fuck did he know?

“No? Then start hauling,” Wade said, and flashed a knowing smile. “I’ll be waiting for you back at base,” he said, and started walking away. 

“Wade... wait...” Peter struggled with the tree. Shit! He couldn’t let go. “Wade!” he called, trying to shake the tree loose, and failing. 

“You’ll figure it out sweetie. I believe in you!” Wade called back. He was already like forever down the trail. 

Peter swore. 


	32. Smoky Mountains National Park IV

Wade stretched out in the rainbow hammock, a fishing hat lowered over his eyes, and sighed with contentment. He wasn’t sunning- his skin couldn’t take that, so despite the heat he was in long sleeves and long pants- but still. It wasn’t too warm yet, and right now he was in shade. 

Beside him, the fire smoked, mostly coals. He’d have to prod them a bit soon, maybe add some wood if he was going to make cheeseburgers for lunch. 

The birds sang. Or at least, chirped “fuck me!” and “back off motherfucker!” at each other. 

[Since when do you speak bird?]

“I saw a documentary thing once,” Wade mumbled. “Hush. You’re ruining my zen.” 

{A bear eating Peter is going to ruin your zen.} Yellow grumbled. 

Wade snorted. “Please. He’ll be along soon.” 

Loud swearing and the sound of something heavy being dragged along with the sound of breaking branches came into hearing. 

“See? Right on cue.” Wade chirped. “How’s it goin’?” He asked loudly at the swearing, not bothering to look. 

More swearing. “You could... help... ya know...” Peter grunted, his voice sounding closer with each grunt. 

“Nope. I’m already swole. Besides I don’t need to curl trees sweetpea.” 

“Fuck... you...” Peter grunted. 

Wade grinned into his hat. “First world problems, babe!” 

More grunting. Then a crash as the tree was dropped. Wade peeked out just in time to see Peter collapse onto his ass, chest heaving. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already!” he chirped. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “This weighs like a ton, Wade!” he complained, and wiped sweat from his brow with his t-shirt. 

“More like half a ton,” Wade corrected. 

“What?” 

Wade waved his smart phone. “I found a thing on the internet. That tree should be around thousand pounds. Which is half a ton.” 

“Really?” Peter sounded skeptical, “That’s a thousand pounds?” 

“More or less. And you just dragged it 2 miles,” Wade gave him a toothy grin. “Feel super yet?” 

“Holy shit.” Peter murmored. “Holy shit!” 

“Holy shitballs indeed,” Wade agreed. He got up and dug a water bottle out of the cooler, and handed it to Peter. “Take a break, pumpkin. Then you can chop it up.” 

Peter froze in mid drink, and choked. “Chop it up?” 

“We need firewood baby. Gotta earn your keep and all that.” 

Peter groaned. 

“Relax. It’s not as hard as you’d think. The hard part is making that-” he waved at the tree, “into logs. I’ll let you do that.” 

Peter sighed. “Of course.” 

“Better hurry up Pete. We’ll need firewood for dinner,” Wade said, and got back into the hammock. 

“So... what? I’m gonna chop up this tree... while you relax?” 

“Sounds about right.” 

“Can I at least get an ax?”

“It’s in the Jeep.” Wade waved vaguely at the parked car. “Have fun!” he chirped, and lowered his hat back over his eyes. 

Peter started swearing again, and Wade snickered quietly to himself. 


	33. Smoky Mountains National Park V

Peter swore the first hit of the ax  _ bounced  _ off the tree. 

He wrinkled his nose and prodded the tree with a bare foot. He’d shed his flip flops about 5 seconds into dragging the damn thing. He’d had to make his feet sticky to get the stupid thing uphill, which he quickly realized was like 90% of the trail. 

And half the time he’s freaking feet STILL slipped because his sticky trick was just awful in dirt. Give him concrete any day of the week over stupid DIRT. 

Fucking stupid Wade. 

Fucking stupid ax.

He hit the tree again, this time with a bit of his anger behind it. Now it buried itself into the wood so hard the head vanished into the trunk. Well, that was better. 

He tried to tug the ax out, but it refused to budge. He groaned, and looked over at Wade, who was reading a battered paperback, and pointedly ignoring Peter. He watched as Wade licked a finger and daintily turned a page. 

Right. Peter could figure this out. Right? 

He ended up having to stand on the log, and lever the damn thing out. It came free with a sudden jerk, and he wound up on his ass, with the ax thrown clear, nearly hitting the Jeep. 

He took a minute to catch his breath, and looked over at Wade, who was still ignoring him.... Wait... was that a giggle? 

“Are you laughing at me?” he demanded. 

Wade sniggered. “Of course not baby! It’s just... a joke in the book is funny that’s all. You just... keep on keepin on.” 

Peter growled and retrieved the ax. 

(It would help if you did it right Peter.) 

“Right... like you know how to chop up a tree.” Peter muttered. 

“All you have to do is ask Petey!” Wade said. 

“I don’t need help!” Peter snapped. “It’s just a tree!” 

“You keep telling yourself that.” Wade sang back.

Peter grumbled. 

(Hit it like this Peter.) Kara said, and suddenly a transparent video (?) popped up in front of him. Arms slightly longer and more... feminine? than his swung an axe with practiced ease into to tree laying on its side. In the video it was snowing. And the tree was... blue? Interesting. He didn’t know there were blue trees. 

The point of view was also interesting. It looked like it had been filmed with a GoPro on a helmet or something. 

(Pay attention.) 

The ax landed with a different angle at each hit. 

Peter frowned. Why would they... oohh... understanding dawned as wedge shaped chunks starting to come off the log. The ax was making progress without getting stuck in the tree with each stroke. 

“Okay...” he muttered and wiped his forehead. “Okay. I can do that.” 

“You can do whatever you set your mind to baby.” 

Peter ignored him, and hefted the ax. He waited a tick... and swung in time to the arms in the video. It took a few tries to get the angles right... but soon the ax was all but eating it’s way through the tree. And best of all, all it took was a slight tug to free the ax after each swing. 

Huh. This wasn’t hard at all!

“Rise and shine campers!” the voice boomed out. It was ass o’clock again. Peter groaned into his pillow. 

“I’m dying Wade,” he groaned. He hurt in places he was sure didn’t even exist 12 hours ago.

“Nope. You’re just sore. Chopping wood does that,” Wade said smugly. 

“You’re so evil!”

“Yep! And an asshole,” Wade chirped. “But the good news is we now have firewood for a week or so.”

“A week? That’ll only last a week?” 

“Something like that. Depends on how long we have a fire for in the evenings.” 

“But it was a giant fucking tree!”

“Fire goes through wood quick when you’re cooking. Come on. There’s bacon AND pancakes today.” 

Peter groaned and got up.

The bacon at least was good. Wade had made it extra crispy, just the way Peter liked it. 

“How’d you know I liked it extra crispy?” Peter asked. 

“It’s better when it’s crispy. Now eat up, you’ve got a long day ahead.” 

“Am I gonna have to chop more wood? My arms are about to fall off,” Peter complained. 

“Nope. Today you work on your string.” 

Peter winced. “I’m just gonna wind up stuck to a tree Wade. What’s the point?” Peter whined. 

“The point,” Wade said and pointed at him with a syrup coated fork, “is that you figure out what makes it come out, and maybe... just maybe, you’ve got like a release mechanism or something.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense. I almost broke the headboard, remember?” 

Wade shrugged. “A black woman who can summon tornados doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense. Yours shouldn’t be any different, eh?” 

Peter frowned, “Your power doesn’t make sense?” 

“Not really. I mean. If you think about it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Wade sighed. “So... like- let’s say I get torn in half. Whatever- it happens,” Wade hand waved away Peter’s horrified look. “It won’t kill me, don’t worry. BUT- and this is the weird part- only one half will grow back into a whole me.” 

Peter blinked. “What?” 

“So I got torn into two by the Juggernaut this one time. Clean in half. Legs and hips on one side of the parking lot, rest of me on the other.” Wade gestured with his hands, demonstrating, “I grow my legs back, no problem, right?” 

“Right....” Peter tried to pretend this conversation was normal. Just two people eating pancakes around a campfire, talking about that one time one of them ‘got torn in half.’ 

“But my legs didn’t grow anything back. They just ... stayed legs. Shouldn’t they have grown the rest of me back and there be 2 of me running around? How did they know not to regenerate?” 

Peter stared at him. Then into the distance. “That... is weird. I guess?” Peter conceded. 

“So... don’t worry about it making sense. Because trust me, I’ve seen some shit, and it NEVER does. Best not to think about it too much.” 

Peter considered. “Who’s the Juggernaut?” 

“An asshole with a stupid helmet. He likes to run through walls.” 

Peter frowned. “He runs into walls?” he asked, puzzled.

“THROUGH walls. There’s a difference.” 

Peter scrunched up his nose. “He doesn't sound... very smart. I mean... like- does he know doors exist?”

Wade considered. “Ya know... now that you mention it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use a door... so... no. I’m gonna go with a no on that one.” 

Peter sniggered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one was a little clunky in the middle there. I always switch POV between chapters and I had to do some juggling to get the right POV for an upcoming long chapter that has Plot in it. Sorry/Not sorry. 
> 
> And yes. This story has Plot. Sometimes. XD


	34. Smoky Mountains National Park VI

Wade watched Peter eat his pancakes. It felt... a bit surreal. Most people thought he was crazy and annoying and thus avoided him at all costs. Besides the boxes, Peter was the first person to ever just... sit with him, and listen to him talk about how  _ weird _ shit was. Like his powers. 

{Do you think he’d believe us?} Yellow asked. 

[Even WE don’t believe us when it comes to... THAT.] White offered. 

Wade grunted. Okay. So, he  _ was _ crazy. And his sense of reality wasn’t the best. And his theory about this whole universe being a made up story of some even crazier bored people -

{Children. Bored  _ children _ , Idiot. Who the fuck else would come up Squirrel Girl?} 

[Furries?] 

{BESIDES the furries, obviously. That and Hellcow. That one really just gave the whole thing away.}

[I don’t remember a Hellcow.]

{It was a cow. That was a vampire. We teamed up that one time.} 

Wade vaguely remembered that one. Like he’d told Peter, he’d seen some shit. Like seriously weird shit. After a while it all became... normal. Boring. 

What does one do for fun when teaming up with a flying vampire cow who wears a freaking cape qualifies as just another Monday afternoon? 

{Pretending to be a Dad apparently.} 

Wade looked at Peter. Was he doing this for fun? That didn’t quite feel right. Dads shouldn’t just be for fun. He knew that. He vaguely thought he’d read it in a book somewhere- probably from one of the ones recommended by Oprah. 

Speaking of which... the kid was done with his pancakes and was messing with the fire. Dawdling. 

“Shouldn’t you be painting trees white?” Wade prompted. 

[Ew. Don’t ever say that again.]

{He’s a minor Wade! Jesus!} 

Wade winced. He hadn’t meant it like that... even if the stuff... I mean. It came out of his wrists, but it WAS white and... 

{I’m gonna cut you off there.} 

Yeah. That was a good idea. 

“I’ll just spend all day stuck to one tree,” Peter whined, apparently missing the unintended innuendo. Yay for small miracles. 

{The kid does have a point though.} 

“Ah, but I have a solution for that,” Wade said, putting his plate down and getting up. 

[You do?] 

“You do?” Peter asked, unintentionally parroting White. 

Wade went to the Jeep and dug around until he found the right duffel bag. More digging produced the Jungle Knife with the stair stepped blade. It was a nice one. It even came with it’s own sheath that had a hole for a belt at the top. Another reason Wade had bought it. Who the fuck would ever need, nay, WANT to walk around with a stair stepped blade that was as long as his arm attached to their BELT? 

Apparently Peter. Because obviously Wade’s kid just had to be that much extra. 

“Come here kid.” Wade said, and dug out some rope. 

“What is that?” Peter asked, as Wade got on his knees and fished the rope through Peter’s belt loops. The kid was skinny enough he didn’t need a belt for non-fashion reasons. 

“Remember that stupidly big knife that I used to cut through your string?” 

“Yeah?”

“Well, here you are,” Wade said, finishing attaching the impromptu belt and the knife to Peter. 

“Just practice with your left arm for now,” Wade said. “Keep one free so you can reach the knife, eh?” 

Peter groaned. “I feel stupid Wade.” 

“Congrats on being a teenager baby boy. It comes with the territory.” Wade stood up and brushed off his pants. “Why don’t you go for a walk, eh? Don’t want to walk into your string when I go for a piss.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, heaved a dramatic sigh, and started to wander off. 

“Come back when you smell cheeseburgers!” Wade called after him. 

“Yeah yeah,” Peter said dismissively as he walked off. 

Wade watched him go. 

[Do you think the writer will let us have a happy ending this time?] 

White’s question nearly stopped Wade’s heart. A happy ending? When was the last time he’d gotten one of those? He couldn’t remember. 

{I think so. According to her google docs she has plans for a book 2 already.} 

[Are we in it?] 

{I can’t see that well... but I think so.} 

Wade felt hope grow in his heart before he quashed it. He’d just have to enjoy Peter the best he could while he had him, that was all. Deadpool almost never got happy endings. 

He didn’t deserve them anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just happened. I didn’t plan for it to go this way and be all sad, but the boxes just sorta took over. And yes, Yellow is right. Book 2 is being planned. 
> 
> This one hurt my head. And my heart. Poor Wade. 
> 
> The next chapter is the long one I had to do juggling for. Hopefully I’ll have that one up by Monday.


	35. Smoky Mountains National Park VII- The Kitten and the Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re taking this spideypool fic and going off the rails for a little scenic detour. This one is going to be a long chapter. So get yourself a snack and a drink, make yourself comfy, and let’s go!

Peter walked through the forest, occasionally hacking at small branches and bits of grass that were a smidge too high with his Giant Fucking Knife- because what else was he supposed to do with it? Or was it a sword? It seemed to have a weird awkward length to it...

It was nice here. Or, at least he thought it was nice. He’d never in his entire life seen so many trees before and for all he knew they were all diseased or something but still. They were nice. 

He poked at a bit of bark, curiously. Yep. That was bark. Wait.. was it bark? That’s what the outside of a tree was called, right? 

(Yes Peter, the outside covering of a tree is called bark.)

“That’s weird. Like the sound a dog makes? Why is that?” 

(I don’t know Peter.)

“The russians don’t think trees are covered in dog sounds,” Peter muttered. “Americans are weird.” 

(The russian word for tree bark is different, yes.) Kara conceded. (But last time I checked, you were an American.)

Peter rubbed the Hydra tattoo on his left shoulder anxiously. Was he American? Really? He wasn’t sure.

(If you are born in America you are a citizen. Were you born here?)

“I think so.”

(Then you are an American.) 

He sighed. He didn’t FEEL American. He didn’t feel like he was anything. A freak- yes. American? Eh. 

He aggressively chopped down a sapling that did nothing to deserve it, and didn’t feel any better for it afterwards. 

He sighed, and poked at the downed sapling with his toe. He was barefoot again. Flip flops were more a hindrance than help in a forest and his feet were tough enough after years of shoelessness that he didn’t mind. He prefered to be barefoot anyway. Even if the ground was fucking cold as balls. And slightly damp. 

He trudged on, following the sound of running water, running his blade idly along the tree trunks as he passed. He was rewarded with a small creek. He swished his feet in it- it was even colder than the ground, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

He looked around. And suddenly realized he had no idea where he was- or worse, which direction he’d come from.

“Kara? Where am I?” he asked, with rising panic. 

(You are here.) Kara said calmly. The HUD mini map appeared in front of him, a translucent green. A small dot of red was next to a squiggle of blue. Peter blinked. 

“Wonderful. I know I’m in the forest, Kara. Where’s Wade?” 

(Wade is back at the camp, here.) A blinking orange dot appeared in the lower left hand corner, not far from the blue squiggle. 

Peter let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I’m not lost.”

(I would never let you get lost Peter.) Kara almost sounded offended at the idea. 

Peter didn’t know how to respond to that. “Thanks... “

(Not a problem Peter. Shouldn’t you be practicing your... thread shooting?)

“Practicing my thread shooting...” Peter mocked with a high pitch voice and a roll of his eyes. “You my mom now Kara?” 

(It might prove to be useful. You could pick up objects and throw them with it.)

Peter blinked. “What?” 

(Like this.) 

Another video. This time a rock the size of his fist was being slung around his head attached to some sort of string (?), and there- it released. It hit a target pinned to a tree with a horrific and satisfying  _ crack _ . 

Ooooo... He looked his arms. His arms that could lift cars. And giant fucking trees. He had a sudden vision of picking up, say, a car door and just... flinging it without ever having to touch it- he could take down like... tanks with that. Well. An armored car at least. And he’d look _ cool as fuck _ doing it. 

It took less than 15 minutes for him to figure out he had to press the heel of his palm with his middle and ring fingers for the thread to come out. Another hour to realise that if he pressed there AGAIN, it would come free from his wrist. 

He was wandering around the woods, giggling like a mad man and seeing how fast he could do a “quickdraw” on trees when he heard it. 

Somewhere, someone was crying. 

He stopped what he was doing to listen, and frowned. One the one hand, he was in the middle of a forest, so who the fuck else could be out there? On the other hand... it didn’t sound like “I’m out of ice cream” type crying, but more “I just got the shit kicked out of me but I’m trying to avoid drawing attention before they decide to go for a second round” muffled sobbing that he was all too personally familiar with. 

He could. COULD just ignore it. Go back to Wade. Leave them. This was an option. 

His feet answered for him, and he headed towards the sound even as his head was still debating. 

It took a while. Sometimes the crying would stop, and Peter would think “Oh. I can go now. Because they’re either dead or over it.” But then it would start up again. 

Also a forest is really big place, and made tracking it down hard. 

But eventually he found it. Or... her. 

He thought it was a her. The closer he got the more... girly the crying sounded. He looked up the tree at the crying girl, who was crammed into the cradle part of a Y shape of tree branches. It wasn’t very big, and didn’t look comfortable at all. But it was off the ground, and she was kinda hard to see. If it wasn’t for his excellent vision and her crying he would have missed her completely. 

He waited on the ground for her to notice him, and watched her. She had on jeans and he hoped a shirt of some sort. He couldn’t quite see at this angle. But like him, she was barefoot. At least the jeans looked new even if there was mud all over them. She was curled into a ball as much as the tree would allow- arms wrapped around her knees, face buried. She had dark hair and pale skin. 

He shifted. Should he call up to her? He didn’t want to scare her... 

She froze. The crying stopped. 

She’d noticed him AND he’d scared her. Great. 

“You okay up there?” he tried. 

“Who the fuck are you?” She said icly after a moment of tense silence. She looked up to say it. She had blue eyes like his, and she looked to be around Peter’s age. But then again Peter always sucked at guessing ages.

“I...” Peter froze for a moment. Who the fuck was he again? To be honest it was still a bit jarring whenever Wade called him “Peter.” Thankfully Wade was so full of nicknames for him it didn’t happen that often. But Omega 13 wasn’t exactly a people name either... 

He settled for shrugging. “I heard crying. Are you hurt?” 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Peter shrugged again. “But I’m here anyway.” 

“Go away,” she sniffed.

“Do you need help to get out of the tree?” Peter asked.

He was fairly sure she rolled her eyes at him. “No dumbass. I can get down if I want to.” 

“What’s your name?”

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” she said, sniffing. 

“That’s kinda long, but okay. You have a shorter nickname you go by or something?” the snark came out of Peter’s mouth before he could stop it. This was always his problem, really. Could he never just keep his fucking mouth shut? 

She stared down at him. “Are you retarded?” 

“No. But sometimes I wonder if the tests were wrong,” Peter responded. There was a bit more truth there than he’d intended...

She blinked. Then... giggled. He wasn’t sure who was more astonished about that, judging by the look on her face. But hey. He’d gotten a laugh out of her. Which meant he was in. Women always treated him nicer after he made them laugh. 

“So do you have a shorter name Miss ‘I Thought I Told You to Fuck Off’?” 

She considered him. “X-23,” she said shortly, as if testing him.

Now it was his turn to blink. That... was not a people name. “What a coincidence. I’m Omega 13. Nice to meet you,” he said before he could think better of it. 

She stared. This was not the response she’d expected. 

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked around. What if she wasn’t alone? What if this was a trap? Was she from Hydra? 

Granted, this was the weirdest fucking un-Hydra like trap he’d ever seen in his life but...

He didn’t sense anyone else around.... He looked up the tree to see her doing the same thing. 

“You from Hydra?” He asked. Maybe if she didn’t expect it, he could surprise the truth out of her. 

“Hydra?” her tone was one of confusion. “No,” then after a beat, “You know Dr. Rice?” 

It was Peter’s turn for confusion. He wrinkled his nose, considering, then shrugged. “Not that I can remember. You know Dr. Kuznetsov?” 

She considered him, biting her lip. “No. Where’s your Handler?” 

“He’s like... over there somewhere,” Peter gave a wave that encompassed a large portion of the forest. “He took me camping.” 

She frowned at that. “He just let you wander off?”

“Yours let you wander off?” Peter retorted. 

Now she looked squirrelly. “I can sneak off if I want,” she said defensively. “Are you... are you here on a mission?”

“No. Are you?” 

“No.” 

Peter stood in silence for a moment. “Your Handler treating you okay? I could break his knees or something if you need it,” he offered. She seemed nice. And he would never turn down the opportunity to fuck up a Handler. They were always gigantic dicks. 

She snorted. “I don’t think you could take him.” 

Peter shrugged. “I can toss cars around if I need to. Breaking knees is easy.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “If you say so.” 

Peter sighed. “Yeah. I look like a twig. I know,” he shrugged. “I don’t get it either. But my Handler said powers don’t make sense anyway so...” he shrugged again. 

She watched him. “You do anything else besides tossing cars, Omega?” 

Peter considered. Sniffed. And decided “fuck it” and walked up the tree next to hers. It was easy. He’d gotten a lot better at making his “sticky” trick work on command since yesterday’s tree hauling exercise. 

“Hey,” he said, looking across at her. He couldn’t help but give a sly smirking smile at the look on her face.

The only thing holding him up were the soles of his feet sticking to the tree bark below him. It was awkward as hell and he was already starting to feel the burn in his calves from having his toes being pointed down and bearing weight at such an unnatural angle, but he held it. He put a hand behind him and stuck that to the tree as well to keep him from falling over. Hopefully it looked natural. 

“I do this too,” he said, and shot off a thread ball at a branch next to her.

Her face turned from one of awe to disgust. “What was _ that _ ?” 

Peter shrugged, feeling a bit crestfallen. “Fuck if I know. But don’t touch it. It’s sticky as hell.” 

She stopped mid-poke, horrified. “They cross you with a spider or something?” 

Peter froze. Come to think of it... no. No. That was just... too silly. It had just been a spider bite. Granted, it had been one weird ass spider but Dr. Kuznetsov had said it was to study the effects of it’s venom. He’d been lucky for his healing factor there. All the other subjects had died. Peter had only felt like death for a week. 

And he’d done his sticky trick for the first time just a week after he’d recovered... and his danger tingles had come not long after that...

_ FUCK. _

(Maybe the stress of the spider bite triggered the mutation?) Kara offered. 

“Why-why do you say that?” he asked, trying to sound casual and not like his brain was exploding. 

“Well, you stick to stuff.” 

Peter nodded from his position in the tree. 

“And that looks like spider web stuff to me.” 

Peter considered. “You think so?” 

“Definitely.” 

Peter sighed. “I have no idea, really. They weren’t big on sharing.” 

“Doctors suck like that.” 

“Fuck yeah they do.” 

Peter waited. “What’s your party trick?” 

She froze. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to...” Peter offered. Fuck his legs were hurting. 

She sat there for a minute... and then she held up a fist. Two... swords (?) knives... metal something... came out of her knuckles. 

Peter stared at her. He wasn’t sure if he was more horrified or awed. “Are they sharp?” he asked. 

She cut off a small branch next to her in answer.  “Holy fuck that’s awesome!” 

She blinked, and looked at the ... claws... as if seeing them for the first time. 

“You think so?” 

“I mean... you’ll never have trouble opening boxes. That’s always cool.” Peter said, and stepped out onto a branch to give his legs a break. He held his breath for a minute... but nope. It held him. 

When he looked up again, she was blushing. And looked angry. “I... just cut off a branch with claws that come out of my hand... and the first thing you think of is opening boxes?” 

“Well, I mean... you could also use them to gut people I guess.” 

She flinched at that. 

“But then again I’m more of a “shoot them in the head” kind of guy,” he said, watching her carefully for her reaction. 

She looked squirrelly again. “You’ve... killed people?” 

“Have you?” 

Silence. 

Peter considered. “You having trouble with it?” 

She stared out into the distance. 

Peter joined her for a minute. 

“Look. It sucks. But... just don’t think about it. You gotta just... shove it in a box and lock it up somewhere yeah?” Peter was on more solid ground here. He’d often had this Talk with Theta on the long cold nights. Back before Theta had... well. Shove that in the box as well. 

He swallowed in the deafening silence that followed, and shifted uncomfortably. 

“Your Handler a giant dick or just a little one?” he asked, seeking safer conversational ground. 

For some reason that got a laugh. “Both,” she said. “He’s like... short. But also a dick.” 

Peter crinkled his eyebrows. “Ugh. Short ones are the WORST. The one I had before this one had like this stupid mustache. I swear he got that thing after giving Chewbacca a blow job or something.” 

“Who’s Chewbacca?” 

“You haven’t seen Star Wars?” 

“No?” 

“Kitten, I’ve been in an underground bunker for the last 4 years and before that I was like in a tiny room next to the freakin’ boiler and even I’VE seen Star Wars. What cave did  _ you  _ crawl out of?” 

She scowled at him. “Kitten?” she blurted, clearly offended. 

“It’s better than being a Spider.” 

She snorted. “Why the fuck a cat?” 

“Because you’ve got claws. And your hair is kinda poofy.” 

“My hair is not... ‘poofy’!” she huffed indignantly. 

“It is compared to mine.” 

She sulked. “I’m not a fucking cat.” 

“But you’re cute like a cat.” Peter regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Fuck him and his mouth. And... there went a blush on his face. Goddamnit.  _ Where the fuck was that pit? _

He shifted and tried to rally... and fuck... was she blushing to? He couldn’t quite bring himself to look right at her just yet, but from the corner of his eye... yes. Her cheeks did look a bit rosier than before. And her claws were missing. Did they like... retract into her arm? He wondered if that hurt... 

“Not a cat,” she mumbled. 

“And I’m not a spider, but here we are.” 

She snorted. “You’re not a spider that you know of. You gonna grow extra legs next?” she snapped. 

Now it was Peter’s turn to flinch. Shit. He hoped not. Was that going to happen next?

Silence. Then, “Sorry Omega.” 

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m kinda a dick. I deserved that,” Peter mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“No... that was... I’m sorry.” 

She actually sounded sorry. He looked up into her pensive face.

He managed a small smile. “It’s okay.” 

She gave him a small smile back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know who X-23 is without looking her up, you get a cookie.


	36. Smoky Mountains National Park VIII Wolverine’s Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you knew who X-23 was! Have a cookie in the form of this chapter being published early!

Wade flipped a hamburger on the cast iron skillet. It sizzled nicely.

{Wonder where the kid is.}

[He’s late.]

“We literally just started to put the meat on like 20 minutes ago,” Wade said, “He’s a kid not a dog. You can’t just pop the treat jar and expect him teleport like a golden retriever does.”

“Who’s teleporting?” a gruff voice from the woods made Wade squeak, and the spatula went flying.

“Oh my god, Wolvie, you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Deadpool squealed as a short and hairy mess of a man stalked out of the woods.

“There was a time I couldn’t sneak up on you,” Logan said judgmentally. “You getting soft in your old age, bub?”

“Fuck no. You can still bounce a quarter off my pecs,” Deadpool said proudly. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you teach at that school now?”

“For one thing, it’s damn near the middle of June. Even public school is out. Two-” Logan took a breath. “This is my fucking land, dipshit! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled.

Deadpool looked around, as seeing the tent, the hammock and the Jeep for the first time.

“Crocheting?” he offered. “I think I’m about done with the Bratz doll dress. You’d like it. It’s yellow and black and tacky as hell.”

Logan face palmed. “Why are you camping on my land, Pool?” he asked, as if every word cost him a year of his life.

“What better way to participate in an American tradition than to just take over a bit of land without permission? The fact a fellow Canadian owns it is just bonus points.”

Logan sighed. It looked like he was counting. Logan did that a lot around Deadpool.

“6 comes BEFORE 7. In case you forgot.” Deadpool quipped. He couldn’t have stopped himself for all the gold in China.

Logan froze for a moment, before growling. “Get the fuck off my land asshole.”

Deadpool rolled his eyes. “Oh, Wolvie, don’t be like that! I’m not even bothering you-”

“You’re bothering me NOW-”

“Only because you came over to be bothered. Not my fault you’re a masochist,” Deadpool shrugged, and moved the skillet off the fire. He’d have to go find that spatula now, dammit.

Logan opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it.

Deadpool tilted his head to one side, curious.

“You’re not in costume.”

Deadpool blinked, and looked down at his sweats... yep. “Neither are you,” he said to the man wearing jeans and a heavy leather jacket in the middle of forest in June.

“Why aren’t you in costume?” Logan asked, looking- really looking at the stuff around him. The two chairs. The two sleeping pads in the tent. A pair of jeans that were much too small for Deadpool hung over the back roll bar of the Jeep for reasons Deadpool couldn’t remember- probably Peter being teenager, he suspected.

Logan stared at him. Deadpool stared back.

“Did you kidnap her?” Logan asked.

“What?” Deadpool looked around. “Kidnap who? You see anyone else here? And I thought I was the one who hallucinated...”

“I swear to god if you’ve dumped a body-”

Deadpool rolled his eyes. “Jesus christ, Logan. You really think I’d drive all the way out HERE to kill someone and dump a body? You’re crazier than I am.”

“You would if you thought it’d piss me off.”

Deadpool opened his mouth to disagree, and found he couldn’t. He was right. Dammit.

“That is entirely besides the point,” he said, waving a raised finger at Logan. Logan glared at it.

“How’d you even know I was out here? Not even Xavier knows-”

“I may have sorta... rerouted your mail.”

Logan stared at him, mouth agape.

“It was only for like a week, I had these things-”

“You rerouted my mail. Is that... is that why I had to get another copy of the deed?”

Deadpool gave him a cheesy simpering smile. And did not say “no.”

“God damn it Wade! I yelled at like three different mail clerks about that- I have to go all the way to next town over because they banned me from the post office-”

“It was an accident, eh? Totally my mistake. I meant to like... forward it to you but then I got so busy... I just needed somewhere to ship the rocket launchers-”

“You shipped rocket launchers to the SCHOOL?”

“I rerouted your mail, remember? So no- they were never actually going to _arrive_ there-”

“It’s a school for mutants, idiot! You can’t just... ship rocket launchers there and think ‘Oh, the government isn’t going to notice’ -”

“You literally have a telepath as your boss, Logan. You’re sleeping with another one- it’s _fine_. They’d just do their voodoo magic on the government agents or whatever.”

Logan opened and closed his mouth for a moment.

“Jean is married-” Logan said firmly.

“And I don’t judge.”

“And Xavier would never-”

“But you’re sleeping with Jean. She would totally do it.”

“I’m not and she wouldn’t!”

“Well she won’t do it _now_ , because now you know _I_ did it, and you’ll tell _her_ and she’ll just throw me to the wolves-”

“I’m going to FEED you to wolves, you sack of shit!” Logan yelled.

“That would be really hard to do since there are literally no wolves in the Smoky Mountains. They’re extinct here.”

Logan growled and grabbed Deadpool by the front of his shirt. His claws extended.

“How about I just take your head off, and mount it on a stick. Let’s see you regenerate from that you stupid-”

A gunshot rang out and Logan went down, taking Deadpool with him.

“What the fuck-” Wade managed, as he untangled himself from Logan’s now literal death grip.

“Are you okay Dad?”

Oh god. No. No no no nononono.

Deadpool looked over and yep. There was Peter, standing by the Jeep, looking freaked out and holding a rifle.

SHIT. The kid had totally just shot Wolverine. Wolverine, who was already pissed BEFORE he died, and was going to totally wake up even MORE pissed... in about 5 minutes.

Make that 6 since it looked like Peter had gotten in a perfect headshot. Wade felt both horrified and proud. Was there even a word for that? Proudified maybe?

{There’s no time asshole!}

“Get in the car,” Wade barked, looking around, trying to take a mental inventory.

“Dad?” Peter sounded confused.

“I said get in the car NOW.” Wade shouted, and grabbed a duffel bag from the tent. He threw it in the Jeep, and took Peter’s jeans off the back and stuffed them in the backseat as well.

[He is going to be so pissed when he wakes up!]

{I hate it when he kills us! Those claws always hurt!}

“Not today,” Wade muttered and jumped in. He didn’t even bother with a seat belt.

“Dad-”

“Are you buckled?”

“Dad-?”

“ _Are you buckled_?!”

“Yes-”

Wade floored it, nearly running over the tent in the process.

“Dad... you’re scaring me... is it Hydra?” Peter’s voice was small.

“No. That... that was... fuck. Let me get to a road, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter quietly and held onto the roll bar as the Jeep bounced its way through the underbrush.

It was a very tense 10 minutes before they hit a road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. That just happened.


	37. Smoky Mountains National Park IX- The Kitten and the Spider II

“Why were you crying?” Peter asked.

She tensed in her tree. “I...”

Peter frowned. “You Handler didn’t hurt you did he?” 

She blinked. “No! He’s nice- I mean... he IS a dick, but he’s nice to I guess?” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Mine made me haul like this giant tree yesterday. But he bought me clothes and stuff, so...” 

She nodded, “Exactly! Mine bought me jeans  _ and _ McDonalds, but then he turns around and says that I don’t have to go on missions anymore-” 

Peter wrinkled his nose. “But missions are fun sometimes! You get out of the base and see the sky-”

“YES! I just don’t understand! Why is he so nice, but then doesn’t want me to do missions? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Peter considered, and chewed on his lip. “He stay out of your bed at night?” 

She blinked. “What?” 

“Has he tried to sleep with you?” 

It was her turn to wrinkle her nose at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“That’s a no then.” 

She sputtered. “Okay...” she sounded confused. 

Peter sighed. Dammit. He’d had to have this talk with Beta to. He ran a hand through is hair. 

“You know what sex is right?” 

She blinked. Stared at him. Her expression went from confusion to sudden realization to growing horror. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Even more horror. 

“You don’t think...” she whispered. 

Peter shrugged. “You have good control over those claws of yours?” 

“Yes?”

“Good. Then you’ll always be armed. Do you have a lock on your door?” 

She bit her lip. “No.”

“You know how to prop a chair under the door handle?” 

“Yes.” 

“You should do that then.” 

She stared off into the distance. “He said he was going to enroll me in school,” she said, sounding sad. 

“School?” 

“A special one for mutants.” 

Peter’s heart fell out of his chest. “Xavier’s School for the Gifted?” 

She whipped around to stare at him. “Yes,” she hissed. “How did you know?” 

“That’s what they told me. But they just... they sold me to Hydra instead.” Peter paused. “I don’t think the place really exists anyway. It’s too good to be true, ya know? A school? For- for...  _ mutants _ ? Where you  _ don’t  _ wear shock collars?” He shook his head. “Squishies would never allow it,” bitterness crept into his tone. 

She stared at him. Emotions were flooding over her face. Doubt. Uncertainty. Pain. 

“He said he was a teacher there,” she said quietly. 

Peter shrugged. “I’m sorry, X,” he murmured. “But hey- at least you know. Have a heads up. I didn’t have that,” Peter tried. 

“If I leave... I’ll have nothing,” she said. “And he’d just track me down.”

“You could always wait until he’s sleeping and- well... stab him?” he offered.

She shook her head. “No. That wouldn’t work. He’s a mutant.” 

“Does he drink beer?” 

She snorted. “He’s got more beer than I’ve ever seen.” 

“He like vodka?” 

She considered. “I guess?” 

“If you can find it, you can mix it with some antifreeze. 2 parts vodka to 1 part antifreeze. Mix it up and it’s super sweet and will knock any mutant on their ass.” 

She frowned. “Won’t he taste it?” 

“It tastes amazing actually. Just don’t give it to squishies. They’ll just die.” 

She looked horrified. “You  _ drank _ antifreeze?” 

Peter shrugged. “The blue one tastes the best, and looks the coolest.” 

She shook her head. “And I thought I did crazy shit...” she muttered. 

“Anyway, you get him passed out drunk, stab the crap out of him, and then you go. It should buy you at least a day or two of a head start.” 

She sighed, and stared off into the distance. “He’s been so...  _ nice _ to me though. I... I don’t know if I could do that to him.” 

Peter opened his mouth to reply- and got a strong whiff of something delicious. 

He stopped and looked around to sniff- and yes. That was definitely a fire and cooking meat. His stomach growled. 

Peter had never been more disappointed in his life to smell the hamburgers.

“What is it?” X-23 asked. 

“I... my Handler’s making hamburgers. Which means it’s time to go back.” Peter said, feeling awkward. 

X-23 frowned. “What? How can you tell?”

“Don’t you smell it?” 

She sniffed the air delicately. “I smell... a fire I think?” 

“That’s him.” 

“Oh.” 

They sat in their trees in awkward silence for a moment.

(You could ask her to eat with you.) 

Peter was never so glad for Kara in his entire life. That was the best idea in the entirety of human history.

“You want to come eat with us? I don’t think he’d mind. We have plenty of food.” A burst of inspiration hit, “We could probably even give you a ride into town if you want. Give you a head start. I’ve got a hundred dollars you could have.” 

He watched her consider it. She picked at the hem of her jeans, idly. 

“You have money?” 

“He gave me some a while ago. I’ve been holding into it.” 

She pursed her lips together. “I... I don’t think I can take your money Omega. That’s  _ your _ escape plan-” 

“It’s fine. I... I think you need it more than I do. And-” Peter heistated. “Mine doesn't want me... well, like that anyway.” 

She frowned. “How do you know?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to pick at his shirt. “I offered. He said no.”

The frown intensified. “Why would you-” 

Peter shrugged. “He wanted to turn me into social services. But they’d just sell me again. Better to suck a dick than get experimented on, ya know? But he said no.” Peter frowned. “Don’t really know why, really. But he’s... he’s a mutant like me. Like us. And... he wants me to call him ‘Dad’, so... I don’t know.” 

Peter willed himself to stop talking. He was rambling. And some things were best not examined to closely lest they disappear. He didn’t want Wade to disappear... It was better to enjoy what he had now. The future would take care of trying to fuck him over all by itself without his help. 

“Mine wants me to call him ‘Dad’ to,” X said in a hushed tone, her expression thoughtful. 

They sat in their trees in thoughtful silence for a moment. 

“That’s a good thing I think?” Peter offered. 

More silence. “I think... I think I’m gonna go back now,” X-23 said. 

“Do you want to meet again tomorrow?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted asking. Because if he asked, she might say ‘no’... and that would be the worst thing ever. He could feel himself preparing to cringe at her refusal. 

“I think... Yeah. I’ll meet you tomorrow,” she said shyly. 

“I’ll meet you back here?” Peter asked hopefully. 

“Okay,” she gave him another smile. It was shyer this time. “I’m gonna go,” she said, and slipped out of the tree. She landed on her feet, then looked awkwardly up at him. “See you tomorrow,” she said, and after a moment’s hesitation, waved up at him, before running off. 

“I’ll be here!” he called after her, and shifted as he felt a weird feeling in his stomach. It took him a minute to pinpoint it. Hope?

Ugh. It felt... unnatural. He took a breath and quashed it. Such feelings never led to anything good. 

But...

No. 

He shoved it in a box. Wiped at suddenly wet eyes. 

(Peter...) Kara said softly. 

“Bring up that map please Kara,” Peter said, ignoring her and hopped out of the tree. He started the long walk back to camp.

He could hear the arguing when he was still 5 minutes out. He started running. 

He arrived out of breath at the edge of the meadow behind the Jeep to find Wade sitting next to the fire arguing with some short hairy dude wearing a leather jacket. 

“Do you recognize him Kara?” he whispered as he made his way to the Jeep and as quietly as possible took out the rifle that Wade had left loaded in the back seat “just in case.” 

“I’m going to FEED you to wolves, you sack of shit!” Short and Angry yelled. 

“That would be really hard to do since there are literally no wolves in the Smoky Mountains. They’re extinct here.” Wade snarked back. 

(I do not. Either way, I suggest a head shot.) 

Peter aimed the rifle just as Short and Angry grabbed Wade. Claws came out of his hand.

_ Why isn’t Wade defending himself?  _

“Come on Wade,” Peter murmored. 

“How about I just take your head off, and mount it on a stick. Let’s see you regenerate from that you stupid-” 

(Peter!)

Peter pulled the trigger. Both men went down.  _ Oh god. Did I miss? _ He hadn’t missed in years. But still...

“Are you okay Dad?” he called. 

Wade popped up, wild-eyed. Saw Peter. 

“Get in the car,” Wade barked, looking around.

“Dad?”

“I said get in the car NOW.” Wade shouted. Wade had never shouted at him like that before. Peter suddenly scrambled to obey, getting in the car in record time, and buckling himself in. 

A few moments later Wade joined him after tossing a duffel bag in the back seat. 

“Dad-”

“Are you buckled?” 

“Dad-?”

“ _ Are you buckled _ ?!”

“Yes-”

Wade floored it, and nearly ran over the tent. Peter turned to watch it fade into the distance. What was happening? The guy was dead, so why were they running? 

“Dad... you’re scaring me... is it Hydra?” Peter’s voice shook a bit.

“No. That... that was... fuck. Let me get to a road, okay?” 

“Okay.” Peter conceded quietly. He kept the rifle between his knees and held on to the roll bar as the car zoomed and bounced through the underbrush. 

He kept looking back behind them, watching for pursuers, but there were none. 

The second they hit a paved road Wade gunned it and they were doing at least 80. The jeep screamed down the barely paved road, and Peter thought his teeth would be rattled out of his skull from the potholes. He concentrated on holding on to the roll cage. 

The wild ride ended when Wade skidded into a McDonald’s parking lot. 

Peter gasped for breath, and watched Wade, who also seemed to be catching his breath. 

“Dad?” He asked after they’d sat there for a minute in silence. 

“Fuck.” Wade said. 

“Dad... what’s going on?” 

Wade leaned back in his seat and sighed. 

“It’s okay honey,” Wade said, and patted Peter’s hand. “It’ll be fine. We just had to get out of there before he woke up is all.”

Peter frowned. “I shot him in the head Dad. He’s not going to wake up.”

“He’s like me Peter. He doesn’t stay dead for long. And he’s always a bit... extra grumpy when he wakes up. It’s safer to just leave him and let him chill out a bit. I’ll buy him something nice later to make it up to him.” 

“What were you arguing about?” 

Wade sighed. “Don’t worry about it pumpkin. Just... if you see him again, you let me take care of him, understand?” 

Peter considered. “Should I use a larger caliber next time?” 

Wade blinked, then snorted a laugh. “I... don’t know actually. Probably. Don’t tell him you shot him, eh? He’s actually not that bad when he’s not being a giant dick.” 

“Do... you think we can go back tonight?”

“What, and get our stuff?” 

“Well... yeah. But I mean... is camping over?” 

Wade sighed. “I think camping is over, yes. I’m sorry baby boy. I know you liked it. We’ll do it again another day, eh?” 

Peter sagged in his seat. He’d promised X he’d see her tomorrow... god damnit. 

“Hey.”

Peter looked at Wade. 

“It’ll be okay, alright? Now, you want some cheeseburgers?” 

Peter stared at the McDonald’s. “Are you serious?” 

“Logan’s an asshole. But he’s not a ‘tear up McDonald’s’ asshole. Well. Not anymore anyway. We’ll be fine now that we’re out of running distance. He’ll probably call me and bitch-”

Wade’s phone rang. 

“And there we go,” Wade sighed. “You know where the cash is?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Grab some. Why don’t you ahead and order a mountain of burgers for us, eh? I’ll be in in a minute.” Wade sounded tired as he got out of Jeep. 

Peter followed suit, and dug through the backset. Eventually he found the right duffel bag.

“Hey Wolvie-”

Peter didn’t need super hearing to hear the shouted swearing coming from Wade’s cellphone. He looked up to find Wade wincing and holding the phone at arm’s length from his ear. 

Peter frowned at him. Wade sighed, rolled his eyes, and made shooing motions at him with his free hand. 

Peter sighed, dug his flip flops out from under a shotgun, and after a moment of struggle, took the rope belt and giant fucking knife off him. 

Short and Angry was still yelling over the cellphone as he went inside. 


	38. Smoky Mountains National Park X

Wade watched the seconds tick by on his Hello Kitty watch and made “Uh huh” noises into the phone, while he leaned against the Jeep. 3 minutes. Logan had been shouting at him for a whole 3 minutes... right... now. 

“You know if you shout for another 45 seconds you’ll break your previous record,” Wade quipped.

There was choking silence. Logan had short circuited apparently. Wade took the opportunity. 

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I take full responsibility for the whole ‘you got shot in the head thing’, can’t we just chalk it up to a mutual misunderstanding or something?” 

The silence turned to choked silence as Logan made “my brain is melting” noises. 

Wade waited for Logan to reboot.

“Take responsibility?” Logan sputtered. 

“Yes.” 

“You never take ‘responsibility’ for anything you stupid asshole!” 

“Well...”

There was silence as Wade could HEAR Logan’s brain working overtime.

“Did I just get shot by your girlfriend?” Logan demanded. “Did your fucking girlfriend just shoot me in the head-” 

“He is not my girlfriend no.” 

More sputtering. Was it possible for Logan to die of an aneurysm? God, he hoped so. 

“Look. I know we left a bunch of stuff there-” more sputtering. “And I know you’ll eventually be pissed about having to clean it up-” growling this time. “So why don’t you do BOTH of us a favor, and go back to your house and sulk THERE so we can come back and clean up our stuff without my face pissing you off.” 

The silence was grudging.

“There’s like a whole bunch of firewood you can have that’s been chopped already.” Wade offered. 

More grudging silence. 

“If I find so much as  _ one  _ condom-” 

Wade rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a gag. “Logan, please. I did not need the image of you on your hands and knees looking for my used condoms-”

“Shut up!”

“I mean, if you want one that badly, all you had to do was ask-”

Logan hung up. 

Wade sighed, and leaned harder against the Jeep. Since when had being quippy happy Deadpool been so much... work? 

He rubbed his face. Even worse... he couldn’t risk Logan learning about the kid. No-one in their right mind would let Deadpool keep, let alone even SEE a 14 year old boy, and Logan cared about that sort of crap now. Had cared since he started teaching at that stupid school, the big metal coated marshmallow. 

The thought of Xavier and his stupid jet coming down and... and... taking Peter... His stomach twisted. They’d even say “It’s for his own good,” and mean it because every last one of them were self-righteous douchenozzles. 

{They’d be right.} 

“Shut up.” 

[The boy  _ is _ a mutant. And... it’s a school for mutants...] White offered but had the decency to sound sad about it. 

{Why did we camp there anyway? Logan would have found us eventually.}

“It’s not my fault I don’t keep track of his school schedule!” Wade hissed. “He was supposed to be upstate New York being all judgy  _ there _ ! Not hanging out in the middle of the woods-” 

He snapped his jaw shut as another car pulled into the parking lot. There were kids in the backseat. 

Yeah. Let’s not get the cops called on Captain Crazy Pants in a McDonald’s parking lot. It wouldn’t be his most embarrassing arrest but... 

{Peter.}

Yeah. But Peter. 

He took a breath. And went into the McDonalds. 

Peter sat at table sipping on a soda when Wade came in. The place was pretty much empty except for an older couple sitting drinking coffee in a corner. 

Wade slid into the chair, and Peter wordlessly pushed another full soda cup complete with straw at him. Wade sighed, and drank. 

“You remembered I like Dr. Pepper,” Wade said. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. I also got you chicken nuggets.” 

Wade snorted. “Chicken nuggets?”

“You complained at Burger King the other day that theirs weren’t as good as McDonalds. So I got you some.” 

“Did you get the sweet and sour-”

“And honey mustard.” 

Wade chuckled. “God, Pete. You know me better than my own mother.” 

Peter wrinkled his nose at Wade. “It’s just food. Don’t be weird about it,” he said, and nudged Wade’s legs with his own. 

Wade snorted. “Where  _ is _ the food?” 

“I ordered like half their inventory, apparently. It takes time to make 40 chicken nuggets and like 20 double cheeseburgers.” 

“40 chicken nuggets?” 

“I wanted some too.” Peter said, and took another drink. “So... what happens next?” 

Wade took a breath. “Well, good news- we can go back and pack up our stuff at least. Bad news- camping is over for now. I could look for another place, but I’m betting that most of the campgrounds will be full.” 

Peter sighed, and looked sad. Not pouty. But sad. Wade’s heart twisted. 

“Hey-”

Peter looked up. 

“We’ll go camping again soon, eh? There’s a couple of places I know upstate in New York that should be nice. We have all summer and it should be really pretty in the fall.” 

Peter gave him a small smile. 

_ God damn it Wolverine. _ Wade thought.  _ He always has to ruin things... _


	39. Smoky Mountains National Park XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to do this folks, but it’s about to get real over the next couple of chapters. I DID put “angst” in the tags, and when I put a tag on my work, I mean it. So let’s do this so we can get back to the sunshine and rainbows.
> 
> Tags: flashbacks, threat of violence

Peter was halfway through his third cheeseburger when the woman walked into the McDonalds. To be honest, he wouldn’t have even noticed her if it weren’t for the baby on her hip that was fussing. 

He watched as she bounced the child on her hip, trying to settle him. Her belly was huge and swollen- clearly pregnant. 

He felt his heart stop as she juggled with her purse, and dug through it, looking for a wallet probably. She was a brunette but the baby on her hip was blonde....

_ “Please... please don’t kill my baby-”  _ She’d begged, sitting on the hardwood at the end of a hallway. She’d curled around the infant despite her swollen belly. The baby was just starting to cry. Down the hallway her husband was in bed, with Peter’s bullet in his brain. She was a dark brunette, but the baby was blonde like his daddy, his mind had noticed idly. 

She wasn’t supposed to be there. The baby wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had said they would be there- 

“I’m sorry,” he’d whispered. He’d meant it. And he’d- he’d-

“Peter?” 

Peter blinked. It was like someone had hit the unmute button on a TV. 

He was back in the McDonalds, and the very much alive woman was handing the child off to a smiling older woman with silver hair so she could dig deeper in her purse-

“Peter?” 

Peter blinked again, and turned to look at Wade, who was looking concerned. 

“Hmm?” Peter asked. 

“You okay?” 

_ Shove it in a box- bury it deep. Don’t think about it...  _

“I’m fine,” he said. But his voice was... flat.

“Your hands are shaking.” 

Peter looked down in surprise to find that they were. 

He put the burger down and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m okay.” 

He looked at a spot on the wall that kept the woman out of his field of vision. 

“Peter?”

“I’m not that hungry.” Peter said evenly. Probably too evenly. “That’s all.” 

It was true. If he ate anymore he’d probably puke it up. His stomach roiled. He blinked again and concentrated on his breathing. He would NOT have a panic attack in a fucking McDonalds. Not today. He felt like shit enough already about probably never meeting X again- 

(It’ll be okay Peter. Just breathe. It wasn’t your fault-)

“Don’t.” Peter muttered through a clenched jaw. Of course it was his fault. He’d pulled the trigger hadn’t he? 

He breathed. 

_ Lock it in a box and bury it deep... _

“Do you know her?” Wade asked quietly.

“What?” 

“Do you know them?” Wade asked again. 

Peter instinctively glanced at the women, felt another stab in his stomach, and returned his gaze to the wall. “No,” he said, just as quietly, still through clenched teeth.

Wade considered him, then slowly got up. Peter was distantly aware of Wade walking to the counter and asking for paper bags, then returning. He carefully packed the burgers away. 

“Come on, honey,” Wade said, and Peter let him pull him out of the restaurant. 

It wasn’t until they were a mile or so down the road that Peter felt like he could breathe again. 

“You want to talk about it?” Wade asked. 

Peter turned on the radio, and stared at the sky out the window. 

Wade, thankfully, let him be. 


	40. Smoky Mountains National Park XII

{Well, that was a moment.} Yellow said. {Didn’t know pregnant women were that scary.}

[He has the weirdest triggers.] White agreed. [First Denny’s and now pregnant chicks.]

{Do you remember that time we had a panic attack because a cow licked us?} Yellow asked, nostalgic.

[Hey. That was  _ disgusting _ . And we all know it was just trying to get to our intestines.]

Wade definitely remembered. Trying to shove your guts back inside you in a field in the middle of nowhere was horrifying enough without being licked by a fucking cow at the same time. He shuddered. FUCK cows. 

{Hellcow was cool though.} 

[She stood on her hind legs and SAID ‘Moo.’ That’s not a cow.] 

{Didn’t we bring her up already? I feel like we’ve talked about her before...}

Wade pulled into the meadow and parked the Jeep. The campsite looked untouched except for the blood next to the now wet looking campfire. Logan must have doused it before going back to the house. 

“Come on, sweetie,” Wade nudged Peter, who sat unmoving in his seat. “Time to help pack up.” 

Peter startled, looked around and sighed. “Okay,” he said blankly. 

Wade kept a half eye on Peter as he took down the hammock. So far he’d seen him pissed. He’d seen him sullen, and he’d seen him happy. This was the first time he’d seen him... sad. 

[Except that time when we first found him. He was sad then.]

{I would say he was more... resigned than sad.}

_ Hmmm. _ Wade couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to cheer someone up. 

How the fuck did you cheer a kid up? He googled it on his phone while Peter packed up the food. 

Hugs... he could do that. But it didn’t look like Peter wanted to be touched right now... 

Stuffed animals... He blinked. Didn’t he have a plushie somewhere? 

{We lost it like 3 years ago.} 

Well... that was unacceptable. Where do you buy stuffed animals anyway? 

5 minutes of googling later, Wade had a plan. 

[He’s a teenager. He’s not going to like it.]

{I’ve got to agree Idiot. He’s 14, not 6.} 

“Hush. Even if he doesn’t want it, I do,” Wade muttered. 

“Are you gonna take down the tent?”

Wade blinked, and resurfaced. Peter was standing there, watching him. He wasn’t pissed or sullen. He was just... blank. He looked tired. 

Wade forced a smile. “Sure. Be right there.” 

20 minutes later they were packed up and on the road again. 

Peter was silent as they go on the highway, watching the sky. Wade turned on the radio, and let his Peter be. 

They needed to make progress towards New York and Wade wanted to do something to cheer his Petey up, so he’d do both at the same time. 

{I’m telling you he’s gonna hate it.} 

Wade snorted. _ Hush. Trust me. _ He thought pointedly.

The boxes rolled their eyes. 


	41. ??? - The Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Death, infant death, death of a pregnant woman, just... horribleness in general really. Consider this the South Park warning: This chapter is unsuited for pretty much everyone.
> 
> The <> tags means the line is spoken in Russian. 
> 
> What follows is a snippet of Peter’s life when he was 11ish.

It was dark out when Peter walked quickly up the brick steps and past the white columns on the porch of the old colonial style home. He had 5 minutes before the cameras turned back on. 

Thankfully it only took him 30 seconds to pick the lock at the front door with a flashlight held in his teeth. The door creaked open and Peter winced. It always made his life harder when people didn’t take proper care of their property. 

Once he was inside, he had to crane his neck and go on tiptoe a bit to read the numbers on the keypad next to the front door and enter the code- 1776. On the small screen on the pad, it read “Alarm Disabled.” 

He looked around as he put his lock picks and flashlight away in a pants pocket. There sure were a lot of american flags everywhere. 

_ Patriotic prick.  _ Peter thought idly. He wondered if it had something to do with the guy being a ... what had they called it? A Senator? Whatever that was. It was something to do with the government, he vaguely remembered. 

_ Keep it together idiot. Time limit, remember? _

Right. Time to stop playing. 

He unslung the rifle from his back, and brought it up into a ready position. He took a breath, and brought up his mental wall of steel, letting all of his emotions get shoved behind it where he couldn’t hear them scream. 

He flexed his neck, and squared his shoulders. Right. No fucking up this time. If he failed... his stomach twisted at the thought.

No. He could do this.  _ Would _ do this. 

The bedrooms were upstairs so that’s where he went first. Up the stairs, and to the left. He got lucky in the first room that he checked. 

His target was asleep in bed, drooling into a pillow, a messy crop of blonde hair sticking out from under the under covers. Peter didn’t even blink, and put two bullets in his head. The man stilled, and the covers slowly bloomed red. 

_ Well, that was easy. _ He thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. Mission done and all he had to do was leave- 

She was in the hallway. Pregnant beyond belief and with a baby on her hip. 

He wasn’t sure who was more startled. Him or her. He automatically brought the rifle up, threateningly, and she clutched the baby to her and started running down the hall. She wasn’t screaming, but experience told him that she would start screaming soon.

Two bullets in the stairs kept her from going down them, and he herded her to the end of the hallway. 

Interestingly, she didn’t try any of the doors. She just ran to the end, found herself cornered, and collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clutching the child. 

In the light from his gun, he could see her pretty brown hair. It served a stark contrast to the beach blonde of the child, who was starting to cry. It looked just like it’s daddy. 

“Please... please don’t kill my baby...” she begged. 

Peter set his lips. She wasn’t supposed to be here. But the mission parameters were clear. No witnesses. He was running out of time... and if he DIDN’T kill her...

“I’m sorry,” he said, and took the shot. 

The child in her arms started screaming for real as she slumped down the wall, suddenly boneless and limp. 

He aimed at the child. 

Hesitated. 

The kid didn’t even look like it could talk yet. Surely it wouldn’t... it wouldn’t count, right? He could... he could just leave it. The maid would find it in the morning, along with the rest of the carnage, just like in the Plan. 

He lowered the gun. Hesitated again. Those stairs were really close. The kid could fall down them or something. 

He could feel something inside him... twitch. 

He picked the kid up. Bounced it a bit and made shushing noises, which miracles of miracles worked. Who the fuck would know if he just... popped it back into its crib? He could always say he hadn’t seen it. That it had slept through the whole thing... No one would know-

He turned and almost ran into Delta. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Peter whispered angrily.

“Covering your ass. As always.” Delta growled. “You missed the fucking dog-” he stopped, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the kid in Peter’s arms.

<“What the FUCK are _you_ _doing_?”> Delta demanded in Russian. 

Peter’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. 

<“I was just...”> Peter responded automatically. 

Delta swore. <“THIS is why I’m always stuck babysitting you!”> he hissed, grabbed the kid by the arm and yanked it out of Peter’s grasp. The kid started screaming again. 

“Delta don’t-!”

Too late. Delta dangled the kid by it’s arm and brought the butt of his rifle down on infant’s face with his other hand. There was a sickening crack, and the child was suddenly silent. 

Delta tossed the tiny corpse to the floor, and it skidded a little to land at it’s mother’s feet. 

Peter was having a hard time breathing.

<“2 minutes.”> Delta said coldly and went down the stairs. 

Peter stared at the baby. 

He picked it up with trembling fingers, laid it gently in the mother’s arms, and tried not to look too hard at it’s now mangled face. He didn’t know why he did it. It just seemed... right. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and wiped at his suddenly wet eyes. 

3 hours later he stood at attention in front of Captain Sokolov. The tall, broad man in military green circled Peter like a hungry shark. Peter had to fight to keep his gaze fixed at a point on the wall, and not cower before him. 

<“So... you could not follow simple orders?”> the man demanded. <“After all that we have done for you. Feed you. Give you shelter. Teach you- you could not follow even a simple command?”>

Peter tried not to shake. <“I followed orders sir. The target is dead-”>

<”And Delta had to clean up your mess! Again!”>

Peter stared at the point on the wall. <”The target is dead.”>

<”And Delta had to finish the job with the witness.”>

Peter froze, licked his suddenly dry lips. <”The child could not speak.”>

<”And there are mutants who could read it’s memory. You would have jeopardized EVERYTHING.”>

<”I’m sorry. I can... I can prove myself. Please-”>

<”No. This is your second failure. If you cannot serve in the field, there are other ways you can help bring glory to Hydra.”>

Peter closed his eyes. He could feel himself swaying. He shook. He knew what was coming. Please... 

<”Please. I can-”>

Sokolov’s backhanded blow to Peter’s face knocked him to his knees. 

<”Begging is for weaklings. There are no weaklings in Hydra!”> the captain roared. 

Peter knelt on the floor, holding his face. Tears leaked out of his eyes. The blow didn’t hurt that much- such things rarely did. But... 

Three men entered the room from a door to Peter’s left. Two hulking men wore the stark white of medical orderlies while the third wore a lab coat. He was tall, thin, and his white lab coat contrasted sharply with his jet black hair. He reminded Peter of a praying mantis. 

<” Dr. Kuznetsov, so glad you could join us.”>

Peter’s mind went blank. Oh god. Anyone but him... on the bad days you could hear the screams from his lab all the way on the other side of the base...

<”So this is the one with the healing factor.”> The doctor said, and circled Peter. 

Peter sat there and said nothing, staring at the floor and shook. Wished desperately for this to not be happening. For it to be over already. Something. Anything. 

_ Oh god, please... someone rescue me. _

<”He is tough as nails too. He will do nicely for your experiments I think.”> Sokolov said. 

The doctor hummed thoughtfully. 

<”Any other powers?”>

<”Being a pain in my ass.”>

The doctor snorted. 

<”Arm.”> the doctor ordered. 

Peter looked up at him, confused.

<”Does he not know how to obey orders?”> Kuznetsov barked at Sokolov, irritated.

<”That is part of the problem, yes.”> Sokolov sighed. 

<”Give me his arm.”>

One of the orderlies grabbed Peter’s arm and held it out. The bastard twisted it hard enough for Peter to whimper as the man braced him to force him to be be still. 

The doctor considered the arm, and pulled a scalpel out of his pocket. Peter stared at it, entranced, his breathing halted. 

Peter shouted as the blade made a deep cut in his arm and thrashed, but the orderly just pulled harder on his arm, and Peter could  _ feel _ his tendons scream- eventually he settled for quiet sobbing as he bled.

The room was quiet as everyone watched Peter’s arm. 

The bleeding stopped. The doctor consulted a stopwatch, and smiled. 

<”Oh, very nice. Very nice! He’s perfect! Prepare him.”> the doctor said happily.

They dragged a sobbing Peter away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an awful chapter. I’m sorry/not sorry. There’s free puppy pictures on google if you need them. Thankfully the next chapter is a nice palette cleanser.


	42. West Virginia

Wade held Peter’s hair as he puked into the toilet. Or at least, dry heaved. 

{How long has it been now?} 

Wade checked his Hello Kitty watch. It read 4am. So that made it 2 hours now since Peter had woken from a dead sleep, stumbled into the hotel bathroom and started hurling. 

“Shhh...” Wade said and rubbed Peter’s back. 

Peter gasped and laid a cheek against the rim of the toilet, shoulders heaving. Wade was fairly sure those were tears streaming down Peter’s face, but other than puking and the gasping for air, the boy made no sound. 

[Do you think he even hears us?]

Wade drew the boy into his lap, and hugged him tight. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured over and over again. 

Wade buried his face into Peter’s hair. “Shhh...” and rocked him. 

Peter shook like a leaf in his lap. 

Wade dug out his phone and pulled up Youtube. 

Together they watched cat videos until Peter passed out in Wade’s lap. 

Wade checked his watch. 5 am. They still had some time until checkout. 

He carried Peter back to bed, and fell asleep holding him, his face buried in Peter’s hair. 

He woke up to an empty bed. After a moment of panic, he heard noise coming from the bathroom, and his brain woke up enough to recognize the sound of a shower running.

{Hey! He’s not catatonic!} 

[Cat... cat-a-wha?]

{It means he’s not rocking in a corner, staring at nothing.} 

“That’s good,” Wade agreed. It meant that he could still carry out his plan. 

{Your plans stinks.}

“At least I have one,” Wade snorted. “And it’s a brilliant plan, thank you very much!” 

[Didn’t he say that the one time before we died?]

{He says it EVERY time before we die, White.} 

Further argument was stalled by Peter coming out of the bathroom in a robe and his hair up in a towel. 

Wade gave him a big smile. “Hey there baby boy. You feeling better?” 

Peter gave him a small sad smile back. “I think so...” Peter hesitated. “I’m... I’m sorry... “

Wade frowned. “Sorry for what?” 

“Last night... I. I didn’t mean to keep you up like that-” Peter was looking at the floor. 

“Oh sweetie. It’s fine. You were just a bit sick is all,” Wade said.

Peter blinked. Opened his mouth, then shut it. 

“Yeah...” Peter said weakly.

Wade gave him a small knowing smile. The boy clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He knew from experience sometimes it was better to just let it be. 

“So... I have a surprise in store for us today!” Wade said, beaming. 

“A... surprise?” 

“Yep. Go get dressed and we’ll head out, eh?” 

Peter eyed him skeptically but went to obey. 

Thanks to both of them sleeping late after a long night, it was nearly noon when they finally left the hotel. 

“Where are we anyway?” Peter asked.

“Charleston West Virginia.”

Peter blinked. “Is that far from the National Park?” 

“It’s about 6 hours give or take a bit.” 

Peter’s nose wrinkled. “I... I don’t remember us driving that long.” 

“I think you slept for most of it, pumpkin.” Wade lied. The boy had stared listlessly out the window for entire ride, and had robotically climbed into bed as soon as they’d checked in.

“Oh.” 

Wade pulled into the parking garage, and circled for a bit before settling for a spot on the second floor. 

“Where are we going?” Peter asked as they walked down a level. 

“Shopping mall,” Wade answered. 

Peter’s nose wrinkle intensified. “Do we need something?” 

“Yep. It’s mission critical, sweetie.” 

Peter blinked at him, and looked around the mall. It was a fairly typical but on the larger size with three floors according to the store directory in the entryway. There was a Sprint store and a Champs Sports right where they entered, but Wade only barely glanced at the directory before walking on by.

“Come on,” he said, and Peter hustled to keep up. 

“What... what are we getting?” Peter asked, clearly puzzled. 

“You’ll see. Ah! Here we are!” Wade stopped. 

Peter looked around. “We’re... getting Starbucks?” he guessed. 

Wade laughed, “Nope! This way!” he said, and walked into the store. 

Peter gaped at him before running to catch up. “This is a Build-A-Bear Wade!” he hissed. 

“Yep!” 

Peter looked at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“Why are we in a Build-A-Bear? Is... is it a front for something?” 

“Nope. Pick a bear sweetie.” 

Peter stared at him. Looked at the store, which was mostly empty, with just a few children and their parents browsing. 

Peter flushed. “I’m not... I don’t need a teddy bear Wade,” Peter said scathingly. 

“Well, that’s really sad to hear. Because _ I  _ am going to get that unicorn over there,” Wade said and pointed. 

Peter followed his finger. “But... they’re all pink,” he said incredulously. 

“Of course they’re pink! They’re  _ unicorns _ !” Wade said, and happily bounced over to the unicorn section. “You might as well look around, baby boy. I’m gonna get it stuffed, and it takes a while.” 

He moved past Peter and selected a neon pink unicorn and started the slow process of picking out a dress for her. He watched Peter out of the corner of his eye. 

The teenager looked like he was about to die of embarrassment and indignation, but after a few minutes seemed to realize that yes, Wade was serious, and reluctantly started to look around the shop. 

Wade smirked. 

{You’re gonna feel stupid when he doesn’t pick anything.} 

[Don’t get the green one. It clashes with the horn to much.] 

“Where are they hiding all the sparkly dresses?” Wade muttered, ignoring Yellow, and digging. 


	43. West Virginia II - Build A Bear

Peter wondered if dying of second hand embarrassment was a thing. Wade was actually, physically digging through dresses for his... his... PINK unicorn, and... and... 

“Oh my god, Kara,” Peter mumbled. He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed or scandalized by Wade’s antics. 

(They’re just objects Peter.)

“For _ babies, _ ” Peter muttered. 

(Wade is getting one. He is fully grown, isn’t he?) 

Peter shifted. She was right. Wade was a grown man. Getting a unicorn. No-one seemed to be staring. Well, more than usual. Peter had noticed that people always seemed to stare at Wade wherever they went. 

(It’s probably due to his scars.)

_ Assholes.  _

Peter sighed, and edged away from Wade, lest people think they were together or something. 

He waited. And waited. Wade picked a dress. 

Finally! 

His heart sunk when Wade went straight for the shoes, and Peter groaned internally. 

Fine. FINE. He’d look at the stupid... bears. Or whatever. 

He was grudgingly browsing when his eye got caught by a bear tucked into a corner of the shop. 

Wait... was that? 

His feet took him over before he could stop them. 

And there in the clearance bin was an honest to god Bucky Bear. 

Peter stared, and his heart stopped for a minute. He’d always wanted a Bucky Bear when he was a kid. This one was one of the larger ones- the kind they showed in the commercials, where the bear was damn near half the size of the 6 year old holding it. It had dark brown fur, and a black nose. And this one had the dark blue jacket with shiny buttons on it.

It even had the little golden winged “howling commandos” patch on the arm of the jacket.

Just like Bucky Barnes’ actual Howling Commandos uniform. 

(Who is Bucky Barnes?) 

“He was Captain America’s best friend,” Peter murmored. “They went everywhere together.” He paused. “‘Til the end of the line,” he whispered, reciting the tagline from the commercials from memory. 

His fingers touched the bear’s ears. They were soft. 

(Why did you want one?)

“Can’t be Captain America and not have a Bucky,” Peter muttered. 

Oh, he’d forgotten that. How he’d watch the Captain America cartoons then run around the house with a pot lid for a shield. Aunt May had hated it, of course. Said he was too noisy and that he had chores to do. 

Then he’d bent the lid clear in half while doing a “tactical roll” off the back of the couch and that had been the end of that... 

It felt like a lifetime ago... he could feel a smile forming at the memory. It had been totally worth it even though Uncle Ben had whipped the daylights out of him afterwards... 

“You want that one baby boy?” Wade said behind him. 

Peter jumped, and almost ended up on the ceiling. 

“Woah woah there sweetie. I’m sorry,” Wade said chuckling. “You alright?” 

“I’m... I’m fine,” Peter managed around a pounding heart. 

Wade reached past him and plucked the bear from the bin. 

“A Bucky Bear, eh? Didn’t know they even still made these,” he said, smiling. 

Peter felt his face catch fire. “I... I was just looking,” he said, desperately looking at everything but the bear. 

“And now I’m gonna buy it for you. Come on. Lets go check out,” Wade said, and started to walk away. 

Peter gaped. “I... I said I was just looking, Wade,” he protested. 14 year olds, he was fairly sure, did NOT get stuffed ...  _ bears.  _

“Too bad. If you don’t want it I’ll just throw it in the Jeep as a mascot. He can ride the unicorn.”

Peter gasped at the blasphemy. “Bucky Barnes does NOT ride _pink_ _unicorns_ Wade!” He said, scandalized.

“Well then I’d guess you’d better be the one to take care of him then. Or else I’ll get a barbie doll to be his girlfriend. It’ll be like a diorama-” 

Peter snatched the bear from Wade. “No dioramas!” he hissed. He wasn’t even sure what that was, but since it was Wade it would probably be embarrassing as hell. 

Wade, the complete and utter idiot, smiled sweetly at him. “Whatever you want baby boy.” 

And that’s how Peter wound up with a cardboard box that looked like a house with a Bucky Bear in it.

They ate at the Chick Fil A in the food court on the third floor. Peter tucked his box under his seat as he ate his chicken sandwiches and listened as Wade rattled on about how he ranked various chicken places. Apparently Chick Fil A was near the top, right next to some place called Jollibee that Wade had had once in the Philippines. 

“Their gravy was just amazing- I’m telling you! I asked if they had a barrel of it I could take back and they said no! Apparently they MAKE it in the store! Can you believe that?” 

“Uh huh,” Peter said and took a bite of his chicken sandwich. It was good. He wasn’t that impressed with the “waffle fries” but they were okay. Not like he had a lot of experience with fried chicken. The few times he’d had it it had been from KFC... 

“Can we have Chinese later?” Peter asked. “I want to try it.” 

Wade choked. “Try it?” 

“Yeah. I’ve heard it’s good.” 

“You’ve never had Chinese before?”

“No?” 

“Oh honey. When we get to New York I’m totally gonna rock your world. I know all the best chinese places-” 

“Can we get some for dinner tonight?” 

Wade snorted. “And ruin your first time? No. You can have some-” 

Wade stopped mid sentence and looked pointedly at the escalators behind Peter. Peter frowned and opened his mouth to ask what was wrong-

Danger tingles on the back of his neck answered him. 

Peter dropped his burger. “Wade-” he hissed, and craned his neck to see-

“Don’t look. Take Sparkles.” Wade said, his voice low and gruff.

Peter sighed heavily with frustration. He felt like he was going to twist his head off with the effort of not looking. A thought occurred to him. 

“Sparkles... what... oh my god you did not name the unicorn Sparkles Wade...” Peter whispered angrily. 

“I sure as fuck did, and I do not want a bullet hole in her. Or you. So you are going to hold Bucky and Sparkles while I get us out of here,” Wade said, standing. He made a point of not looking directly at whatever was behind Peter. 

“Oh my goodness! Will you look at the time! I’m gonna be late for my hair appointment! We need to go!” Wade announced loudly with the worst acting skills known to man. 

Peter sighed and grabbed the boxes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be honest. I totally 100% straight up shamelessly stole the idea for a “Bucky Bear” from another fan fic. I would tell you which one, but I can’t remember. It just makes too much sense for it to NOT exist in the MCU. So I’m doing it. Spider-man totally owns a Bucky Bear. 
> 
> If you saw “Bucky Bear” and were like “OMG! Why did I not think of this? I must own one NOW!” some people make/sell them on etsy. I recommend “OnBearFeet”. She has some AMAZING MCU themed bears. #Notsponseredjustamazingbears. Her “Bucky Bear (Howling Commando)” bear inspired the look of mine. 
> 
> Also, yes I’ve been posting a lot. I’ve been off work since Thursday and I’ve been writing like the energizer bunny over here. I don’t go back until Tuesday after Memorial Day and I'm in between semesters right now so you can look forward to one or two more chapters coming out before the holiday is over.


	44. West Virginia III - And There Was a Firefight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary said occasional gun fights. Well, here’s another one. This time it’s Wade’s turn to be a BAMF. Whee! 
> 
> Tags: Death, lots of death, Deadpool being Deadpool.

The men coming up the escalators behind Peter might as well have had “minion 1” and “minion 2” tattooed on their foreheads. Matching long black shirts and cargo pants? In June? 

The matching black combat boots was just icing on the cake. Did they think he was  _ blind _ ? 

{No, they think you’re stupid. Which you are.}

[Those combat boots look nice. We should loot the corpses and see if they fit us.]

Speaking of which, Peter still was in his $2 flip flops. He should seriously get the kid an actual pair of shoes sometime.

[We passed like 3 shoe places on the way up here.]

{Now is not the time for shoe shopping White.} Yellow hissed.

Wade hustled Peter past the elevator and towards the escalator on the other side of the food court. Wade watched the minions notice them and start to follow. One of them talked into a sleeve. 

_ Wonderful.  _

[I hate it when henchmen watch too many movies.] White whined.

{I agree. They don’t make them like they used to. Back in the day they would have just opened fire in the food court. Now they’re...  _ pansies.  _ Who think they’re all James Bond and shit.} 

....  _ Fuck. _ That was a good point. They could have just shot them in the food court. So why didn’t they... 

They rode the escalator down to the 2nd floor and came out next to a Victoria’s Secret. There were more minions by the Dippin’ Dots stand in the middle of the concourse, but Wade pulled Peter into the Sunglass Way display, out of view.

“So... “ Wade said. “There’s some minions in front of us. We COULD head for the Bath and Body Works behind us, and take the garage entrance there... or we could make a run for it past these mooks. What are you feeling baby?” Wade muttered to Peter. 

Peter sighed. “I don’t like either. I’m armed with only a pink unicorn Wade,” Peter said, and glared at Wade. “Why don’t I have a piece like you?” 

Wade snorted. “You can’t hide a piece in skinny jeans, babe. I told you you should have gone for the relaxed fit,” Wade quipped automatically, and checked the men in the reflection of the glass in the American Eagle store. 

The mooks hadn’t moved. Who the fuck had the guys up top been talking to? 

Speaking of which, they needed to move. 

“Bath and Body Works it is,” Wade said. “Come on. We’ll take a shortcut through the store.” 

Peter grunted and they started walking. Wade made sure to keep the pace quick but not so quick to draw attention. Just another family at the mall, nothing to look at... He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders as they walked. He could feel his fingers itching for his gun, but the last thing he needed right now was panicked civilians blocking his path. 

They made it through the Bath and Body Works just fine. But the second their feet hit the concrete of the parking garage Peter body slammed them into a wall, and Wade heard a blistering gunshot followed by the whistle of a bullet going past his head. 

Wade pulled him down to the floor with him behind a car, and pulled his Desert Eagle from the back of his waistband. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as Peter laid gasping with adrenaline on top of him for a moment before scrambling off him. He watched as Peter went to peek over the car- and kicked him hard in the back of the knees, making him fall back to the floor.  “Don’t!” Wade snarled as Peter turned to look back at him, face twisted in confusion. “I can regrow my head sweetie, but you can’t. You are staying put.” 

Peter scowled at him. “I can take care of myself, Wade,” Peter hissed. 

“What are you gonna do? Throw Sparkles and Bucky at them? You are staying PUT. You hear me?” 

“I can’t stay put Wade! They’re clearly going to draw you off me and then when you’re dead they’ll grab me!” 

“I don’t die that easily, honey.” 

“Says the guy who lasted 3 seconds in a fucking Waffle House parking lot,” Peter muttered. 

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Wade whispered angrily. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,  _ honey _ . Now stay PUT,” he growled. 

“Fine,” Peter said through his teeth. 

[Fucking youth these days! So disrespectful.]

{Time to show Peter why baddies fear the name Deadpool.} 

He checked his gun. 9 bullets to get the car on the other side of the parking garage. Right. He could do this. 

[And no dying!] 

And that too. 

“Maximum effort,” he muttered, took a breath, and Started. 

Deadpool popped up from behind the car and took out two carefully advancing bad guys with head shots, before rushing over to a column for cover. 

He peeked around, and nearly got shot for his troubles. 

{Quick little fuckers.} 

“Tell me about it. And what’s with all the head shots? Thought they taught people to go for the body shots first.” 

[Heh. Body shots. We should do some after we get out of here.]

{It’s center mass, asshole. You’re special forces. Act like it for once and stop embarrassing us!}

“Yeah yeah. Bitch bitch bitch, moan moan moan,” Deadpool mocked. “All you ever do is complain.” Thank god for that shiny Camaro. He could see Bad Guy #3 clear as day in the wax job. 

[We should leave a thank you note.] 

{How about we just not get blood on the car?}

“I’ll think about it,” Deadpool chirped and popped out from the other side of the pillar and shot him. He fell screaming, which echoed loudly in the carpark. Deadpool shot him in the head to make him shut up. 

“Pansy! It was only your liver!” he scolded, and kicked the corpse in irritation. “Now you’re dead instead of just on dialysis! You think about that! Make better choices next time!” 

{CAR. PETER.}

_ Right.  _ He was getting distracted. 

Another column. He was making progress. 

He checked his gun. 5 rounds left. He growled. 

“Remind me to get an extended mag for this thing,” he muttered. 

He peeked. No bullets this time, but there were 3 more bad guys in the next aisle. 

[Seriously? Are they suicidal?]

{Maybe they can count, and know we’re almost out.} 

“Ha ha very funny.” 

[Do a spin when you kill the next guy!] 

“Do I look like I’m wearing my tutu?” Deadpool demanded, as he came out from behind the pillar and made another head shot. 

Bad guy #4 went down. #5 crouched, and got a shot off that hit Deadpool in the leg. 

“My leg? Really? What the fuck shooting school did you guys go to? You seriously need refunds!” he shouted as he shot him.

#5 went down. Deadpool limped over and got shot again in the torso for his troubles before he could kick the gun away. 

“ _ You asshole that was my favorite kidney _ !” he screamed, and shot him twice in the head. 

[But it looked so cool in the movie-] 

{Please. We’re not NEARLY high enough to be all twirly.} 

“Damn right,” Deadpool growled. Ugh. The worst thing about healing was that it ITCHED like a motherfucker on the inside where he couldn’t reach. He grunted and twisted his shoulders in discomfort. 

{Wait. Where’s #6?} 

“Where did you go little fella? Don’t be scared. I’m only just going to shoot you in the fucking head,” he sang with false innocence. 

He found #6 cowering behind a car. 

“Oh god. Please don’t shoot me!” the man wailed. 

Deadpool stared at him.

[Fucking coward.]

{I’m telling you! They don’t make them like they used to!} 

“Fine, but tell me who you’re working for.” Deadpool aimed his Desert Eagle at the man’s head. 

The man thought for a minute. “Hydra?” he offered. 

{Wow. That was like the worst lie ever.}

Deadpool shot him in the knee. The man screamed. Deadpool made a show of cocking his gun. 

“Wanna go for a bonus round, honey bunches of oats?” he crooned. “Next one goes in your one eyed willy.” he aimed for the crotch. 

Mr Bad Guy covered himself with his hands. “Okay! Okay! Promise you won’t shoot me again, and I’ll tell! I’ll tell!” 

Deadpool groaned exaggeratedly, which for some reason involved most of his body. “Oh my god, fine! Yes! I won’t shoot you. Now who do you work for?” 

“Professor Thorton! He said to bring you back!”

Wade frowned. 

_ Who the fuck was Thorton?  _

[Bring back?]

{Oh god. It’s a plot twist. Do we need Wikipedia for this crap?} 

“Who the fuck cares?” Deadpool said. As long as they weren’t after Peter, they could be from that rat bastard that kidnapped all the oompa loompas for the chocolate factory for all that he cared. 

[I swear there’s always SOMEONE after our genetics.]

{Which is just ridiculous. We leave our limbs like everywhere. All they’d have to do is follow behind us with a picnic basket and they’d be set for life for testing materials. No goons required.} 

“I’ve been getting better about that,” Deadpool said, offended, and pulled his boot knife. 

“Wait! You said-”

“I said I wasn’t going to shoot you. Which is true. I’m out of bullets anyway. Lucky for you I’ve got this knife, eh?” Deadpool smiled. 

It wasn’t a very nice smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don’t want to actually go hunting down this dude on Wikipedia, Professor Thorton is a Bad Guy who made Wolverine. He’s in charge of Department K, which is in charge of Weapon X, which was in charge of the spin-off program that made Deadpool. It’s like one of those Russian nesting doll things, but Evil Canadian Government Programs instead of dolls. He’s old as fuck and SHOULD be dead, but that’s Plot for the future...


	45. West Virginia IV - Bitch

Peter sat on the cold concrete floor, feeling dangerously exposed while he listened to the various screams and ringing gunshots with Wade’s endless chatter sprinkled liberally over everything echo through the parking garage. 

He scooted into a corner and tried to make himself as small as possible. Any minute now Hydra agents were going to come out of nowhere and drag him back-

He shoved it into a box. They’d capture him much easier if he was having a fucking panic attack. 

He tried to control his breathing. He was... alive. He had... he was armed with well... his arms. He was strong. Remember that. And... he had that thread/webbing stuff now. He could maybe shoot it at someone’s face and block their nose and mouth with it? 

Well, that would just be the worst way ever to die, but it was better than nothing.

(You could web their bodies to the wall or floor.) Kara said. (You don’t have to be lethal.)

“Yes, But dead people can’t shoot you,” Peter said, and tried to breathe in through his nose. 

Fuck he needed a weapon. Something. Anything. 

His eyes landed on a pipe in the ceiling attached to a sprinkler head. If he ripped it off... 

He suddenly remembered that time in Jacksonville when Delta had knocked down the sprinkler system with that stupid staff of his and gotten them both doused in disgusting black water. 

Okay. So that would be plan Z. 

He rubbed his face. Fuck when this was over he’d never be without a weapon of some kind again. NEVER. Even a tiny pen knife was better than being fucking naked in a parking garage that was just crawling with Hydra. 

(They’re not Hydra.) 

“What?” Peter asked.

“YOU ASSHOLE THAT WAS MY FAVORITE KIDNEY!” Wade screeched from somewhere on the other side of the level. 

More gunshots followed. 

(Hydra thinks we’re dead.) 

“And how the fuck do you know that?” Peter demanded. 

(I skimmed their server last night-)

“You WHAT?” 

(They never knew I was there. It was just all public facing database-)

“Don’t you fucking tech babble me Kara. Did you just tell me you HACKED Hydra? The same Hydra we’ve been running from?” 

(It has been weeks. I wanted to know why they were not coming for us.)

“And now they’ll come for us because you hacked them!” 

(They didn’t catch me. I’m good.)

Peter made a frustrated noise into his hands, and told himself that banging his head into a wall repeatedly would only hurt him, and not Kara. 

“And when, exactly, were you going to tell me this?” he demanded after a moment. 

(I just did.) 

“How long have you been sitting on it?” 

(Not long. I just learned it last night.)

Peter froze. “Last night,” he said cooly. “When I was freaking out. And you weren’t there.” 

Silence. 

“Kara! I needed you dammit! You were hacking Hydra instead of  _ helping _ me?” 

(I was helping. I was-)

“No. That is  _ not _ the kind of help I meant and you know it!” 

(You were fine. You had Wade. I didn’t think having a voice talk to you in your head while you were depersonalizing would have helped much.) Kara said. With a tone. Like she was surprised that he wasn’t grateful. Or something. 

Peter sputtered. “De-what?” 

A car drove up. The horn beeped. “Get in loser! We’re going shopping!” a familiar voice called. 

Peter popped up from his corner.

“Wade?” 

“Come on! Don’t forget Sparkles!” 

Peter threw the boxes in the back and scrambled into the car. 

“This is so not over.” Peter said darkly as he buckled himself in. “You just can’t... leave me like that and be all ‘but you had Wade’ and then give me fucking attitude... like I’m the crazy one-” Peter ranted as Wade peeled off, and the car swayed as it ran over... things in the road. 

Peter shut his eyes and tried not to think about the noises the bodies made when Wade ran them over. Oh god, he was going to remember that in his dreams now... 

(I never said you were crazy.)

“Everything alright baby boy?” 

“Kara fucking hacked Hydra last night!” Peter bitched. “All on her own! She just left me- AGAIN- when I was freaking out- to hack god damn HYDRA- ”

(That was the first time I left you.)

“No it fucking isn’t!” Peter shrieked. “After the Waffle House you just LEFT me!” Peter buried his face in his hands. “You can’t... you can’t keep DOING that-” 

Peter felt a hand on his back, and stifled a teary sniff to look up. Wade had one hand on Peter’s back while he drove down the road. 

“I know you’re melting down right now sweetie,” Wade said, his eyes on the road. “But I need you to calm down. We need to get at least a few exits down the highway before the cops show up and start sniffing around.” 

Peter made a frustrated noise. 

“I know! I know! It’s the worst. But can we put a pin in it for just 20 minutes or so? I promise I’ll find a field somewhere and you can yell at each other all you want there, okay?” 

“But she’s-” Peter whined.

“No. Pin. Now,” Wade growled. 

Peter slumped in his seat, sulking. He could feel Kara doing the same, but her silence was more icy. 

After they got just one exit down the highway, Peter muttered, “Bitch.” 

(DID YOU JUST CALL ME A BITCH?)

“Maybe I did?” Peter sneered. “Maybe you are a bitch- OW!” Peter reared back as Wade flicked his ear. 

“I said pin! And don’t call her a bitch,” Wade said firmly.

Peter stared in horrified disbelief at Wade. “Are you on her side now?” he demanded. 

“No. But you do NOT call women you’re in relationships with bitches. It’ll just end in awfulness, and she’ll remind you of it for YEARS to come in every argument you’ll ever have, and you’ll never win any of them ever again.” 

Peter sputtered. “She’s in my head Wade! She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“Congrats on the marriage then.” 

More sputtering. “What-”

“She’s going to be with you for the rest of your life, right?” 

Peter stared at the road. He hadn’t really thought about that. 

“So you’re stuck with her. She’s not going away.” Wade continued. “So don’t call her a bitch.” 

Holy fuck. Wade was right. He was going to be stuck with her for the rest of his life... a voice in his head. Watching him 24/7. He’d never be alone again... never have privacy again. Never... Never...

He could feel himself starting to shake.

(Peter?) Kara asked hesitantly. 

The panic attack he’d been fighting off ever since they’d entered the parking garage hit him like a Mack truck. 


	46. West Virginia V

It was the worst meltdown Peter had ever had. Wade had been forced to pull over on the side of the highway after Peter started banging his head on the dashboard while screaming. 

“Peter, baby- come on, it’s okay,” Wade soothed and dragged Peter into the gravel shoulder, and held him firmly while Peter fought him. 

“Honey you need to stop. You can’t run off here. It’s not safe,” he said firmly, all to aware of the 18 wheelers roaring past them mere feet away. Healing factor or no healing factor even Wade would go splat if those things hit him. If Peter ran off into the road now... 

He couldn’t even think about that right now. 

{The bear. Get the bear!} Yellow shouted. 

[Yes! The bear will help!] White agreed. 

“I’m working on it,” Wade growled. He juggled the sobbing Peter until he was sure he had him firmly pinned with one arm to his side, and dug around in the back. Jackpot. 

He ended up tearing the box to get the damn bear out, but he didn’t care anymore. 

“Get her out! I don’t want her! Get it out! OUT!” Peter was screaming, pulling at his hair now. 

Wade pulled them down until they were sitting on the gravel, leaning against a tire. More juggling got Peter in his lap and the bear in Peter’s lap. He pinned Peter’s arms around the bear after he started trying to hit himself. 

“You are safe,” Wade said, his voice feeling raw. “I have you. Breathe honey. Come on. You can do it. Deep breaths.” Wade buried his face in Peter’s hair. 

“Feel the bear. How soft he is. How hard the buttons on his cute little jacket are. Can you tell me how many buttons he has?” 

Peter sobbed. 

“I know you can do it baby. Tell me. How many buttons?” 

{He’s too far gone Idiot.} 

[He needs to cry himself out.]

Wade sighed, and just held Peter. They were right. He’d waited too long to pull over dammit and now he just had to wait it out. 

Some more juggling to get Peter so he has his head tucked into Wade’s shoulder, and Wade just held him tight and murmured a never ending stream of nonsense into Peter’s hair.

“I’ve got you babe. Just breathe. I know you can do it. My precious Peter...” 

Eventually Peter stopped struggling and just... cried. 

“Get it OUT!” he sobbed brokenly. “Don’t want it!” 

“Oh baby. I know. I know,” Wade said, and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair. He squeezed him hard. 

[Do you think we could take it out?]

{Don’t be stupid White.} Yellow was dripping with disdain. {We can’t fucking do  _ brain surgery _ . Not without killing him.} 

[Maybe we could threaten someone who can?] 

{Perhaps...} Yellow was quiet. 

_ Ugh.  _ Wade shuddered. He could FEEL Yellow sifting through Wade’s awful swiss cheese memories, looking for something. 

“Hate it when you do that,” Wade muttered. 

{Shut up and be still so you can be useful for once in your stupid life.} Yellow snapped. 

Wade sighed, and tried to concentrate on the scent of Peter’s hair. He let Yellow do the work. God knows he could barely remember what he had to eat this morning, never mind remember the names of brain surgeons who may or may not owe him a favor. 

“What about... Dr. Julius?” he muttered. 

{We cut his hands off. Child molester, remember?} 

Wade hummed. “Dr. Zygot?”

{He does abortions Idiot. Not the kind we need.} Yellow paused. {Are you just listing every doctor you can remember?}

“Maybe?”

Yellow snorted. {Shut up and let me see what I can find. Comfort the kid already.} 

Wade stroked Peter’s soft hair, and Peter just sat there and shook. 

He knew all too well the panic Peter was going through. When he’d first gotten White and Yellow... how many times had he killed himself trying to get rid of them? 

{20. You shot yourself in the head 20 times.}

He blinked. He didn’t remember doing it 20 times... 

{Sometimes you woke up mid-healing and did it again.} 

[20? Really? Did you hate us that much Idiot?] 

Wade very pointedly did not answer. 

[Why isn’t he saying anything?] White whined. 

“Any luck Yellow?” he muttered, changing the subject. 

{I’ve got a couple of names. But you can’t remember if they’re any good or not.} 

“So... nothing then.” 

{Maybe if you didn’t shoot yourself in the head over 20 times you’d have a better memory Idiot.} Yellow snapped back. 

Wade sighed, and leaned against a tire, trying to let his mind go blank. 

[Good luck with that Idiot.] White said snidely. 

Wade snorted. Of course. What had he expected, really? 

In his lap, Peter shifted and whimpered.

“Hey there sweetie,” Wade crooned. “You talking yet?” 

Peter whined.

[Oh! That’s a good sign!]

“Feel the bear honey. Feel how soft he is.” Wade soothed, and sighed in relief as Peter smushed his face into the bear. “That’s it.” 

Peter took a deep shuddering breath.

“Good, good. Feel his buttons. And his nose.” 

Peter hummed. 

“How many buttons does he have baby? Can you tell me?” 

It took a while, but eventually- “Six,” Peter slurred.

“Good. That’s good. How you feeling honey?” 

“Tired.” 

“Feel better?” 

“Like shit,” Peter muttered. 

“Feeling something is better than nothing,” Wade said. 

Peter hmmed. 

“Come on. You can sleep it off in the car,” Wade said. 

It took some persuading, but he managed to get Peter into the car. Wade buckled him in, and made sure Peter had a good grip on the bear. He kissed him gently on the forehead. 

“Everything is going to be alright pumpkin. I swear it,” he said. 

Wade got into the driver’s seat and just sat for a moment. He looked over at Peter, who was just blankly staring at nothing while running his fingers through the bear’s fur.

God damnit. Everything had been going so fucking GREAT... and then fucking Wolverine had chased them off and now... 

[Why not go camping again?] White asked. [He liked it better than the hotels.] 

Wade sighed and leaned against the steering wheel, and snorted a mirthless laugh. 

Dear god, White actually had a good idea. That’s how fucked Wade was.  _ White _ was the one contributing. 

{He’s not wrong.} 

Wade thought for a moment, and dug out his phone. He could fix this. He would totally fix this. 

[You’d better Idiot.]


	47. George Washington National Forest

Peter blinked. One minute they’d been driving down the usual highway with fields and occasional towns, and the next they were surrounded by trees again. 

“Where are we?” Peter asked, hugging his bear. 

Wait... when had he started holding his bear? 

“George Washington National Forest,” Wade said. “I found us another campground. Only this time, it’s got actual trails and things on it.” 

Peter frowned at him. “I thought the Parks had... views about firearms?” 

“Which is why we’re going to hide them really fucking well under some blankets and not use them.” Wade said. “But the rules say we can camp at either the campsites or pretty much wherever we fancy so long as we don’t set the whole damn forest on fire.” 

Peter considered this. They  _ did _ need to use up all that food they’d bought... 

He absently brushed the bear’s ears with his lips. Dear god, it was so fucking soft... he hugged it close and buried his face in it. 

He just... sat for a while. He was so fucking _ tired.  _ Inside and out. 

He could feel himself start to drift to sleep when the car stopped and the engine died. 

Confused, Peter sat up and looked around. 

“We’re here,” Wade announced. 

Peter blinked. They were surrounded by trees. But there was a picnic table, and ring of iron set into the ground with a strange iron rod and... grid thing stuck on it. And a level area that was surrounded by wood set into the ground making a square. 

“Where’s the people?” he asked. “Shouldn’t there be other people?”

“Nope,” Wade said, popping the p. “Hone Quarry isn’t that popular for some reason. That and we’re at the last site all the way in the back. Today there’s just a couple of families here, but they’re closer to the parking lot.” 

“Does that mean we should have parked the Jeep in the parking lot?” 

“Nah, this is an RV site. So long as we don’t drive in and out like 20 times a day they don’t mind. And the parking lot is for day hikers. Now come on. We’ve got a couple of hours before the sun goes down and we still need to make dinner.” 

Setting up camp was a quiet affair. Now that Peter had done it before, he was more of a help setting up the tent in the level area, and he put the hammock up all by himself. 

He stood back and admired his work. “Not bad, eh Kara?” 

Silence. 

Peter frowned. “Kara?” 

“You okay pumpkin?” Wade asked. 

“Kara’s not answering me,” Peter said, confused. “I don’t... she was working earlier..” 

Wade frowned at him, and bit his lip. “Honey... you had an argument with her earlier, remember?” 

Peter blinked. Argument? 

He suddenly remembered calling her a bitch. And that she’d hacked Hydra. 

“Oh-” Peter felt sick. 

“Hey... hey. It’s okay. She’s probably just a bit mad, eh? Give her some time. She’ll come around again,” Wade said, and clapped him on the back, and squeezed the back of Peter’s neck reassuringly. 

“But... she’s a computer-” Peter said. “I don’t-” 

“Hey. It’ll be okay,” Wade soothed, and pulled Peter into a hug. “Give her some time to calm down, and you two can have a nice talk about it, eh?” 

Peter sighed into Wade’s shoulder. This was so confusing. Since when did computers have  _ feelings _ ? 

He felt himself ruminating on it as he gathered sticks for a fire. Apparently chopping down trees in a national forest was frowned upon so random wood found on the ground was all you could gather. Wade said he’d go into town tomorrow and get a bunch of wood they could burn. 

But for tonight... they needed sticks or else they’d have cold hotdogs for dinner. 

Eventually he hit the jackpot. A branch larger around than his leg that looked like it had fallen in a recent storm lay on the forest floor. It’s leaves were just turning brown. And they had an axe back at the Jeep. 

“Perfect!” he exclaimed. 

He used his sticky trick to drag it back to camp. 

20 minutes later he was still dragging it back, and it was starting to get dark. 

He dropped the branch. Stared at trees that all looked the same. 

“Okay. Don’t panic. I’m not lost. I am... not lost at all,” Peter said, with considerably more confidence than he felt. 

He sat under a tree. Wade would come looking for him. All he had to do was wait. Right? 

More time passed. 

“Kara?” he asked softly. 

She didn’t answer. 

“Kara, please.” 

Silence. 

Peter bit his lip, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

(Are you sorry because you’re scared or are you actually sorry?) 

Peter let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. Oh thank god. She was still working. 

(Well?)

“What?” 

(Are you sorry because you need me or are you sorry because you’re sorry?) 

Peter considered. “Can I be both?” he whined. “I mean- I... I didn’t mean it, the whole... ‘bitch thing’ I really didn’t. And... Wade will be worried about me-” 

He covered his face with his hands. “Please Kara?” he asked in his best kicked puppy voice. 

A map appeared in front of him. Peter wilted with relief. “Thank you Kara.” 

(Just to get you back to Wade. I’m still angry, but at least this way we won’t die of exposure.) Kara snapped. 

Peter pressed his lips together, and swallowed an angry retort. Kara couldn’t feel the cold. But he could. She could easily give him a false map and make him even more lost if she wanted. The thought made his blood run cold. 

Shit. 

(I wouldn’t do that.) Kara objected.

“You literally stayed quiet while I was literally lost in the woods,” Peter retorted, as he dragged the branch back to camp. Thankfully he wasn’t far. Apparently he’d been going in a wide circle around the camp somehow. If he’d kept going he would have eventually have hit the road. 

(And once Wade would have started calling for you you would have found each other in about 5 minutes flat. You were never in any real danger.)

“So you let me be afraid for no reason?” 

Silence. 

“That’s just wonderful. Good to know,” Peter said sarcastically.

He wouldn’t be forgetting this. 

(Good.) 

_ Bitch.  _

But he thought it very, very quietly. 


	48. George Washington National Forest II - Red Kevlar

Wade let Peter sleep in that morning. Peter had been quiet when he’d finally, FINALLY gotten back from the woods, and from the looks of things, had had a rough go of it. 

{Thank god he came back.} 

“Oh come on. Kara was with him. They were fine,” Wade said as he placed a pan on the fire, and liberally coated it with sinful amounts of butter. He swirled it little harder than necessary with his spatula.

{Don’t break the fucking pan Idiot.} 

Wade grunted. He was still a little pissed about yesterday. Yeah, he had totally camped on Logan’s terf and kinda left him for dead. But he’d cleaned up. And he’d SAID he was sorry. 

But the bastard had STILL dodged his calls. And he must still be on a shit list or something because Jean hadn’t answered either. Logan must have told her about the rocket launchers. The bastard. 

[It’s a good thing the kid is a super. Otherwise he’d be wider than he is tall by now.] 

{We need to feed him MORE. A few chicken sandwiches and 20 hot dogs is not enough calories for a kid.} 

“Good thing I’ve got like 3 more shake n’ pours then.” Wade snapped, and poured some bottled water into the yellow plastic container. 

{He needs fruit, Idiot. Or else he’s going to get... scurvy or something.} Yellow said disdainfully.

“And I’ll get him some when we get to New York! Get off my back, Yellow,” Wade complained. 

[Are we going to New York?] White asked. 

“Well, yeah, obviously.” 

[Back to our apartment?] White asked. 

“Yes!” 

The voices were quiet for a moment. 

{The apartment with rats in it?} Yellow asked. 

[Or the safe house with more mold than tile in the shower?] 

Wade stopped in mid shake of the pancake mix. 

{Or the one with no A/C or heating in it?}

“That one is a warehouse for me to regrow limbs in. That doesn’t count,” Wade retorted, but he suddenly felt... very unprepared. 

DID he have a safe house that was... Peter worthy? 

He stared off into space. He’d never once even thought about it. Sure he’d bring an occasional hooker back, but he always paid enough that they didn’t care about his skin OR the hovel he was fucking them in. 

Shit. He couldn’t bring Peter to well... ANY of his places. The poor kid would get... like... tetanus AND sepsis in like 10 minutes... 

{Probably measles to. Is the kid even vaccinated?} 

Now that was a thought. Could a super catch something like measles? Wade had been vaccinated when was a kid and had only gotten the chickenpox that one time. And now... well. He doubted even Super AIDs would stand a chance against his cancer. 

Wade stared at the pancake mix, suddenly completely and utterly aware that he was probably the least qualified person to be a parent in the history of, well, history. 

“Shit.” 

He needed to make some calls. He would NOT be bringing Peter back to well, ANY of his places. 

He was on the phone when Peter finally emerged from the tent, all sleepy and hungry. 

Wade gave him a friendly wave in the direction of the pile of pancakes next to the campfire. “Go ahead and help yourself honey,” he stage whispered, before going back to the phone. He started wandering towards the edge of the campsite. 

“I don’t care what you do and do not practice, Foggy. I happen to know that you’ve been eating ramen way more than an adult should, and I’ve got the money to fix that.” 

“I’m sorry, but we are criminal defense attorneys. We just don’t do real estate-”

“Look, is Mattykins in or not?” 

“He’s busy-” there was the sound of the phone being jostled around, and muffled voices mildly arguing. 

“I’m sorry, who is this?” a new, deeper voice got on the phone.

“Scaredevil! It’s about time!” 

Silence, then “I’m hanging up now.”

“Woah woah woah! Don’t be so serious Matty! I’m just calling in a favor is all.” 

“I don’t remember owing you a favor,” Matt said grimly. 

“Yeah well, consider this: I’ll pay you a lot of money and I’ll owe  _ you _ a favor.” 

“I don’t do-”

“Yeah yeah. I know the drill. I just need someone to buy a decent apartment in the city for me preferably in a non-shit hole school district and have it ready by next week or so.” 

“Wade,” Matt sighed, “get a real estate lawyer-” 

“Daaaad! We’re out of syrup!” Peter complained from his post by the firepit. 

Wade sighed. “Hang on a minute Matt.” He pressed the phone to his chest. “Did you look in the Jeep?” 

“Yes!”

“Did you look under the weapon duffel?” 

“No.” 

“Check there. There should be a second bottle somewhere.” 

He placed the phone back to his ear. “Sorry. I think I was telling you about the absolute boat load of money I was willing to pay you.” 

Silence. 

“Mattykins? Hello?” 

“Found it! It was under a shotgun!” Peter called. 

On the other end of the line, Wade could hear footsteps and a slammed door. 

“Please tell me you have not kidnapped that child I hear in the background.” Matt’s voice was strained. 

Wade snorted. “Does he  _ sound _ kidnapped to you?” 

“It sounds like you have a minor who has unrestricted access to firearms,” now the voice was full of disapproval. 

“That reminds me. Is there an age limit on concealed carry permits in the city?”

There was a moment of silence. “21,” was the slightly strangled answer. 

Wade wrinkled his nose. “Well that’s just shit.” 

“I’m not-”

“Look. I need a place. The places I have are no good. You hear me? I’m not taking him to some shit hole,” Wade said in a loud whisper. He knew the man would hear him. “And I’m literally in the middle of the woods right now, and I need this figured out before we make it back to the city. So am I going to owe you a boatload of money and a favor or not?” 

“I’m not putting you in a nice neighborhood and having you track your troubles back to good people-” 

“I’m not taking any new jobs, Matt. And yeah- I could call someone else. It’s just the last lawyer guy I had buy a place for me ratted me out to some mafia guys with a grudge and I had to take his fucking head off. I can’t risk the kid getting caught up in that. And I don’t want him sleeping on the floor with rats while I figure my shit out, alright? So can you help a brother in red out or not?” 

Silence. Wade held in a frustrated sigh and tried a different approach.

“I know a guy who’s really good at getting red Kevlar cheap. He does bulk discounts and everything,” Wade cooed. 

Silence. 

“It comes 50 inches wide,” Wade sang. “He sells it by the bolt.” 

“50 inches?” it came out in a squawk. “I can only find- how many yards?” 

“5 per bolt.” Wade said, grinning. “If we order together we can get 30% off. Plus you’ll get a new person discount of like another 5%.” 

Silence. 

“It’s got carbon fiber in it- it’s the good stuff. And it’s solid red. None of that ‘two-toned’ crap.” 

Silence.

“I’ll tell you what Matty. I’ll have him send 2 bolts over for free and have it included as part of your payment.” 

There was a sigh of a man compromising his morals. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” Matt said, but he sounded like he regretted the deal already. 

Wade made kissy noises into the phone. “Knew you’d come through. Team Red for the win!” 

“I... team what?” 

“Bye Matty,” Wade sang, and hung up. 

{Wait. What if Daredevil tells someone about Peter?}

Wade snorted. “Who would he tell? Foggy? The guy has even less friends than I do.” 

[I thought you only had Weasel.] 

“Yep. But Foggy doesn’t know that Matt’s a super. So he don’t count.” 

{How do you know that?} 

“Because he didn’t tell me to fuck off the minute I told him that Wade Wilson had a job for him. Plus Matty’s got that whole ‘stick of righteousness’ up his butt. It’ll be fine.” 

Wade turned to Peter. 

“Who’s ready for a hike?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a lark, I decided to look up red Kevlar. It was surprisingly hard to find solid red sold by the bolt fabric that was more than 2 feet wide. Almost everything was a red and black twill pattern or in some form of a square that’s great for say, vests, but just awful if you’re trying to make a pair of pants without a million seams. 
> 
> Red/blue spandex, on the other hand, you can walk into any Joann’s and use a freakin’ 50% off coupon and walk out with stuff that's 55 inches wide. No wonder Spider-man traditionally wears spandex onesies. It’s because he’s poor. A pure spandex costume would come out to around $45 for just the fabric. And that’s before the coupon. And that’s if he buys 4 yards. He’s so skinny and short he’d probably only need 2 ½ yards if he cut it right... *mutters in sewing* So... around $20 if he’s good at cutting/pattern layout and uses a coupon. Damn. 
> 
> So there you have it folks: the mystery of why all heroes wear spandex explained! It’s cheap! And it shows off your ass!


	49. George Washington National Forest III - The Fall

It took an hour of what Peter would have sworn to be off-trail hiking to get to the cliffs. There was no warning about them either. One minute you were walking on a barely-there trail between spindly trees, and the next you were at the bottom of a vertical wall of stone. 

Peter stared at it, open mouthed. The rock face wasn’t a shear wall- it looked like a bunch of differently sized stone blocks had been assembled by a toddler into a “tower” that was just barely not falling over. There were all sorts of nooks and crannies and outcrops. 

His fingers  _ itched _ with the need to climb it. 

He’d already kicked his flip flops off and was trying to figure out a good place to start when he heard Wade chuckle behind him. 

“Glad you like it,” Wade said, smiling. “Thought this would be a good place to practice climbing.” 

Peter turned back to find him already sitting in his folding chair. 

“Can I?” Peter asked. “There’s no rule against it?” 

“Nope. Local climbers do it all the time. Apparently this section is ‘good for beginners.’”

Peter frowned. “This section?” 

“Oh yes. There’s at least 6 other climbing spots on this trail.” Wade said, grinning. 

Peter stared at the rock. “Oh my god,” Peter murmured reverentially.

_ Was this heaven? _

Wade laughed. “Hurry up and go for it! We’ve got an hour or so before we have to head back and go into town for supplies.” 

Peter whined. “An hour?” 

“We’re going to be camping here a while honey. Today I’m showing you where all the good spots are so you can come up here by yourself later.” 

Peter frowned. “How do you know so much?”

“Campsite has wifi, and there’s a bouldering site that has GPS coordinates of all the good spots.” Wade said, and checked his watch. “55 minutes now. Stop wasting time and go!” 

It didn’t take any more prompting. Peter went up like a drunk squirrel. The rock felt amazing under his hands and toes. It let him stick and unstick with ease and didn’t fight him the way tile or stucco did.

This was  _ so _ much better than trees. Or drywall. Drywall just felt awful when he stuck to it. Like if he weighed just one ounce more it was going to fall apart under his fingers. But this? This was solid and had no “bounce” to it to throw him off. 

By the time he was halfway up he had a system figured out. Unstick. Stretch. Stick again. It took concentration to keep all four limbs going at once. Sticking. Unsticking. Moving. Sometimes he tried to move before he unstuck. Once he forgot to stick a foot and would have fallen if it weren’t for his hands.

The adrenaline rush as he went up was incredible. 

Before he knew it he was nearly at the top, and well above the treeline. The only thing keeping him up was his sticky magic on his fingers and toes. He released a hand so he could turn and take in the view. 

The wind blew through his hair, and Peter took in a deep breath, taking it all in. The sun was out and spread warmth on his back. The rock face was cool against his hand and feet. The trees swayed in the breeze. There was no sign of humans for as far as the eye could see. He couldn’t even see Wade through the tree canopy from up here. 

_ Is this what religion feels like?  _

It was perfect. 

(It is wonderful.) 

Peter blinked. “You talking to me again Kara?” 

Silence. 

Peter sighed. “I said I was sorry,” he whined. 

More silence. 

“Dammit Kara,” Peter grumbled. 

“Time to go Peter!” Wade bellowed from somewhere down below. 

“What?” Peter looked around. “But I JUST got up here!” Peter yelled back. 

“And we’ve got shopping to do and 6 other sites for me to show you!” 

Peter slumped on the rock, and whined in indignation. On the one hand he didn’t want to go shopping. But he did want to see the other sites... 

He sighed. Fine. He’d get down. 

....

Right. He’d just move a hand there... and.... and...

FUCK. 

He couldn’t see where his feet were going. Panic gripped him for a moment, and for a moment he couldn’t get his hands to let go. 

He laid his forehead against the cool rock and concentrated on breathing. He could get down. He was fine. He just... had to move. 

“Peter?” 

“I’m coming!” Peter shouted back. Fuck, when did his arms suddenly become so tired? 

Right. Moving. The sooner he got to the ground the sooner he could collapse. 

Feet. Then hands. Feet again. Hands. He breathed and tried to ignore the tremor that was forming in his left leg. 

He made it about another 10 feet before his questing foot met nothing but air. 

For a moment his heart froze until he remembered: the outcrop. The tower of rock had a bit that stuck out a good 3 feet horizontally before continuing upwards. Or in the case of going down, there was now 3 feet of horizontal distance between his feet and the next vertical bit of wall. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t know HOW to maneuver this. It had taken him three tries to get over the hump going up with fresh muscles- but now? 

He laid his head against the stone again, and felt his right hand cramp. 

“Dad?” Peter tried to keep his voice calm. He was marginally successful. 

“Peter? You okay?” Wade called back, alarmed. 

“I... I’m stuck.” 

“No you’re not. There’s a better place to come down just a few feet to your left,” Wade called back. “Just work your way over!” 

Peter looked to his left. And yes, with some straining, he could see it. The rock face gently curved inward into a crevice. If he moved over, he could go around the outcrop instead of over it.

Okay. He had a plan. All he had to do now was move. 

It took an act of will to move his hand. Another for his foot. He stopped. 

“What are you waiting for sweetheart? Just keep going!” 

“I’m tired,” Peter said, his voice shaking. “I don’t...” 

“You can do this Peter. You can’t fall. You’re still too far up. You have to get down a bit. I can catch you. But you  _ need _ to get lower,” Wade called back, his voice urgent. 

Peter peeked over his shoulder. He was about even with the nearest treetop. Wade was right. He HAD to get lower. He’d probably survive the fall but at the very least probably break a leg in the process of landing. He really really really did not want to find out just how durable he was. 

He struggled. Moved another foot. Then a hand. 

“Dad?” Peter called. His voice trembled. 

“You can do this baby! Come on! I’ll buy you some ice cream! Whatever flavor you want!” Wade was babbling below. “Just a little more and you’re as golden as Bea Arthur herself!” 

Right. He could do this. WOULD do this. It was this or falling. 

And all he had to do was fucking MOVE. 

He moved his left hand as far as he could reach to his left. Stuck it. 

Moved the other hand to brace himself against the stone so his face wasn’t so smashed against the rock face. 

Unstuck his right foot. Moved it left as well. Breathing space. 

Now just move the left foot- unstick... 

Realized that he hadn’t stuck his right foot first. Or his right hand. 

He scrambled madly at the rock, but it was too late- 

All of his weight went to his left hand with a sudden jerk, and there was a deafening crack as the tiny bit of rock he’d been stuck to simply just broke off the rock face. 

He was falling backwards- 

Somewhere he could hear screaming. He didn’t know if it was him or Wade. 

He stopped falling, swung and nearly hit a tree, then swung back. His right shoulder screamed. The skin on his wrist felt like it was being pulled right off the bone. 

Hands grabbed at his feet, and he instinctively kicked at them. 

“Stop that! I’ve got you!” 

Wade. Wade was below him. 

He stopped kicking, and the hands grabbed at his ankles, and after a couple of attempts, stopped his swinging. 

Someone was crying. 

Oh. It was him. 

He just hung there miserably. Why hadn’t he splatted? 

He looked up. He was suspended by a white thread going from his wrist to a branch of a tree. He stared at it. What the fuck... He didn’t remember making it come out...

“Please tell me you figured out your release button, baby boy!” Wade shouted, hands firmly on Peter’s ankles. 

Peter managed a pained grunt of agreement. EVERYTHING hurt. His arm felt like it was going to fall off... and any moment now the skin and meat on his wrist were going to just tear right off the bone- 

“You can do it. I’ll totally catch you. Let go in three... two...”

It took all of Peter’s willpower to press the heel of his palm with his fingers, while his wrist and shoulder screamed at him. 

He fell. 

“Gotcha!” Wade said, and caught him in iron arms. 

Peter buried his face in Wade’s neck and gasped for breath, shaking. 

“Hey hey hey. It’s okay. I got you. That was amazing, baby.” 

“It hurts!” Peter cried. 

“Wait, what hurts?” 

“My arm. I don’t...” Peter started hyperventilating. “It hurts...” Peter whimpered.

Wade had him on the ground faster than Peter could blink. 

“Show me,” Wade’s voice was serious. 

“My shoulder...” 

Wade put a hand on his back to hold him still while he felt Peter’s shoulder. He grunted. “Looks like you dislocated it sweetie.” He said grimly. He took off his belt, and laid his customary pouches to the side. 

Peter watched, confused. 

“I’m going to pop it back into the socket. But it’s going to suck major balls, so you need to bite down on this, okay?” 

Peter stared at the leather and balked. He could feel the panic rising- bite down on the leather and terrible awful Pain would follow... they’d shock him- they’d- they’d-

“Hey. Hey,” Wade said. “Look at me baby.” 

Peter dragged his eyes away from the leather and looked at Wade. 

“I’m here honey. It’s okay. Take a breath.” 

Peter sat there, breathing... and shook. Right. He wasn’t tied to a table. He was with Wade. Wade would take care of him. 

Wade hugged him close. “Shh... come on. For Daddy. Open up, baby.” 

Peter shook some more. But he opened his mouth. 

“Good boy,” Wade whispered, and slid the leather belt in. 

Peter bit down on it instinctively. It tasted terrible. He closed his eyes and leaned heavily on Wade. 

“There we go. Now just... relax.” 

Wade took hold of his elbow, and gently pulled down on it. Peter whimpered. It didn’t hurt that badly yet, but he knew what was coming...

“You’re doing so good baby. So good. Ready? Three- two-” 

The traitor moved Peter’s forearm away from his body on the two count instead of the one, and Peter jerked and screamed as his shoulder POPPED back in with an audible clicking noise. 

He took a breath and screamed some more. 

Wade held him as he sobbed, and stroked Peter’s hair. 

“Shhh...” Wade held him close and rocked him. “I’m so sorry baby. I shouldn’t have let you go so high...” 

When Peter stopped having hysterics, Wade removed the belt from Peter’s mouth. Some fumbling with a pouch revealed a water bottle, and Peter drank gratefully, washing out the taste of the leather. 

“I’m okay,” Peter lied, and hiccuped.. “It feels better now.” That one wasn’t so much a lie, but his shoulder at least only now kinda hurt instead of screaming at him like a cat in heat every time he took a breath. 

“Think you can make it back?” Wade said, concerned.

“I think so,” Peter said, and stood. Or at least, he tried to. His knees buckled halfway up, and Wade caught him on the way down. 

“Hey. No collapsing allowed,” Wade said. His tone was joking, but his eyes looked worried. 

“I’m sorry, I just... I’m just tired.” 

Wade sighed. “Well, no help for it then.” 

And that’s how Peter got a piggy back ride back to camp. 

“I normally charge for this,” Wade teased. 

Peter didn’t answer. He buried his face in Wade’s neck and tried not to die of embarrassment. 


	50. George Washington National Forest IV - The Fall II

Wade watched Peter go up the rock face with glowing pride. The kid was a natural, even if at first he seemed to struggle a bit with getting his power to work properly on command. 

“See that?” he muttered. “That’s talent right there.” 

{The kid could join a circus.} 

[Fuck that! Imagine him going up a skyscraper and stealing diamonds from the 90th floor! Like in the movies!]

Wade imagined that for a minute, and let out a low whistle. “Holy fuck, he’d be amazing at that.” 

[We could use him on jobs!] White continued happily. 

Both Wade and Yellow bristled at that. “He’s not touching merc crap with a 10 foot pole,” Wade hissed. 

{Our precious Peter getting shot at? NO.} Yellow was equally firm. 

[So we do distraction work while he gets in.] 

“Nope. Not happening. Get your head out of your ass White,” Wade grumbled. 

They watched as Peter went higher than the trees around them. 

{That’s... that’s really high. Are we okay with this?}

“He’s fine,” Wade said. “He’s a natural, remember?”

[He’s gonna go splat if he falls.]

“He’s not gonna FALL,” Wade snorted. “The kid sticks to stuff, remember?” 

But still... he watched with growing tension as the kid just went higher... and higher... 

{How tall is this fucking cliff again?} 

[Too tall. Much too tall. Get him down Idiot!] 

“I told him an hour...” Wade waffled.

{An hour won’t matter if he’s dead!} 

He sighed. The kid looked to be almost at the top anyways. 

“Time to go Peter!” Wade bellowed.

“What?” Peter shouted back down. “But I JUST got up here!” Peter sounded upset. 

“And we’ve got shopping to do and 6 other sites for me to show you!” 

The kid didn’t answer. 

“Peter?” 

“I’m coming!” Peter shouted back. 

Wade waited. The kid’s descent was much slower than he’d been going up. He at least made steady progress until he hit an outcrop, where he stopped. 

“Dad?” Peter’s voice was mildly panicked. 

“Peter? You okay?” Wade called back, alarmed. 

“I... I’m stuck.” 

“No you’re not. There’s a better place to come down just a few feet to your left,” Wade called back. “Just work your way over!” 

The kid moved a hand. Then a foot. Then stopped. 

“What are you waiting for sweetheart? Just keep going!” 

“I’m tired,” Peter said, his voice shaking. “I don’t...” 

“You can do this Peter. You can’t fall. You’re still too far up. You have to get down a bit. I can catch you. But you  _ need _ to get lower,” Wade called back, his voice urgent. He struggled to hold back panic. 

Peter struggled. Moved another foot. Then a hand. Wade held his breath, and moved under him. Willed him to not fall. Put out his arms to catch him- to TRY to catch him if he did-

“Dad?” Peter called. His shaky voice pushed all of Wade’s panic buttons. 

He could FEEL Yellow hold his breath, which was just so fucking weird... White wouldn’t stop shouting something about baby birds- Wade ignored them. 

“You can do this baby! Come on! I’ll buy you some ice cream! Whatever flavor you want!” Wade babbled inanely. “Just a little more and you’re as golden as Bea Arthur herself!” 

The kid moved- Wade blinked. 

The kid fell. 

The boxes screamed. Peter screamed with them. 

Then suddenly the kid was swinging away from him. Wade watched with wide eyes as he nearly hit a tree, then start to swing back- 

{He’s gonna hit the cliff!} 

Wade scrambled, and managed to slow the kid’s swinging enough that he did NOT smash face first into the rock face by grabbing at the kid’s ankles. 

Peter kicked at him. 

“Stop that! I’ve got you!” 

Peter instantly obeyed, and after a few more attempts Wade managed to still the boy. 

_ WTF? _

{HIS STRING! He’s hanging by his string!!}

Wade peered up, and yep- the kid was literally hanging by a thread going from his wrist to a branch. 

_ Holy fuck.  _

“Please tell me you figured out your release button, baby boy!” Wade shouted.

Peter answered with a pained grunt. 

“You can do it. I’ll totally catch you. Let go in three... two...”

The kid fell again. This time Wade caught him. 

“Gotcha!” Wade said, delirious with relief. The kid buried his face into Wade’s neck, and Wade buried his own into the kid’s hair, breathing deep of his scent, trying to get his heart to stop pounding. 

{Holy shit holy shit} Yellow was blubbering. White was still just incoherently screeching in panic. 

Peter shook like a leaf in his arms. 

“Hey hey hey. It’s okay. I got you. That was amazing, baby,” Wade soothed. 

“It hurts!” Peter cried. 

Wade’s heart stopped. 

“Wait, what hurts?” 

“My arm. I don’t...” Peter started hyperventilating. “It hurts...” Peter whimpered.

Wade had him on the ground before even the boxes could yell at him.

“Show me,” Wade’s voice was serious. 

“My shoulder...” 

Wade put a steadying hand on the boy’s back, and took a look at the damage. He could tell just from the way it was hanging off him that the boy had ripped his arm out of the socket. He winced. 

“Looks like you dislocated it sweetie.” He said grimly. He took off his belt. 

Peter watched, confusion clear on his face. 

“I’m going to pop it back into the socket. But it’s going to suck major balls, so you need to bite down on this baby.” 

Peter stared at the belt, eyes wide as saucers. His breathing picked up. The kid was going to have a panic attack over a belt? 

{Doctors.} 

Oh.  _ OH.  _ God damn it, he should have killed those fuckers slower. 

“Hey. Hey,” Wade said. “Look at me baby,” Wade used his baby bird voice. 

Peter dragged his eyes from the belt to Wade’s face with some effort. 

“I’m here honey. It’s okay. Take a breath.” 

The boy started shaking. Wade considered, then went in for a hug. Thankfully the contact didn’t set him off. 

“Shh... come on. For Daddy. Open up, baby.” 

Peter opened his mouth. Wade slid the leather in before the kid could change his mind. 

“Good boy,” Wade whispered. Peter leaned into him. 

“There we go. Now just... relax.” 

Wade took hold of Peter’s elbow. 

{Remember- gentle and rotate!} Yellow said anxiously. White was still inchorent. 

Wade held back a retort- he fucking KNEW how to set a shoulder, fuck you very much- and pulled the boy’s arm down so that it would pop in easier. 

“You’re doing so good baby. So good. Ready? Three- two-”

Then a quick and steady pull to the side on the forearm on the two count so the kid wouldn’t have a change to tense up- 

He  _ heard _ it pop as it went in, and Peter screamed. The sound sent another harpoon into his heart, and made his chest ache. 

“Shhh...” Wade held him close and rocked him as the boy cried. “I’m so sorry baby. I shouldn’t have let you go so high...” 

{I TOLD YOU. I  _ fucking _ TOLD YOU!} Yellow nagged. 

They just sat there for a while, while Peter cried into Wade’s chest. After a while, Wade took the belt out of Peter’s mouth, and dug out some water for him. 

He drank with his left hand. 

“I’m okay,” Peter eventually hiccuped. “It feels better now.” 

“Think you can make it back?” Wade said, concerned.

“I think so,” Peter said, and stood. Or at least, he tried to. His knees buckled halfway up, and Wade caught him on the way down. 

“Hey. No collapsing allowed,” Wade said. His tone was joking, but his eyes looked worried. 

“I’m sorry, I just... I’m just tired.” 

Wade sighed. “Well, no help for it then.” 

And that’s how Peter got a piggy back ride back to camp. 

“I normally charge for this,” Wade teased. 

Peter didn’t answer, and just buried his face into Wade’s shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cannolis Batman! 50 chapters! When I first started this romp I had no idea that I would make OVER 50 chapters of Wade and Peter getting to know each other. I just wanted to thank everyone for coming along on this ride with me! 
> 
> Also, I’m sorry there wasn’t any updates on Saturday or Sunday! My dad literally cut through our internet line (somehow???) by accident early Saturday morning, and since all of my chapters are in google docs... yeah... >.> I really need to make some local backups. In good news, I’m back up and running now so yay!


	51. George Washington National Forest V - The Walgreens' Parking Lot

“Daaad,” Peter whined, “I do NOT need an arm sling.” 

They were standing in a Walgreens. Wade was considering the selection of braces and ace bandages while Peter stood next to him. 

“Yes you do,” Wade said firmly. “You dislocated your shoulder, sweetie. I’m going to buy you a sling, and you are going to wear it.” 

“But I’ll just be healed by tomorrow-”

“Nope. Don’t care.” 

Peter sighed. There was no arguing with that tone. Wade had gone and gotten an idea in his head, and there would be no changing it. He shifted, winced, and held his arm better. Fuck he was sore. Stupid arm. Stupid string. 

(Better than a smashed head.) 

Peter grunted with frustration. He wasn’t sure which was worse: Kara being quiet or her giving him random quips. 

“Either talk to me or don’t. You’re driving me nuts.” Peter muttered. 

Silence. 

If he had hands free he would tear his hair out. He’d SAID he was sorry. What the fuck else did she want from him? 

And he was in public. So he couldn’t have a screaming argument with a voice in his head right now. 

And Wade was taking FOREVER to pick a fucking sling. 

“Are you done yet?” Peter whined, and bounced on his feet. He immediately regretted it when his shoulder twinged at him. 

Wade selected a sling, and gave him a searching look, “Let’s go get some tylenol.”

Peter gave an aggravated sigh. “It doesn’t work on me.” 

“It will if you take like 10 of them and mix in some ibuprofen too.” 

Peter frowned. “Are you supposed to do that?” 

“Fuck no. But our livers can take it,” Wade said, and put the biggest bottle of pain pills Peter had ever seen in his basket. 

Peter watched Wade pick up a couple more bottles and put them in his basket. He felt antsy. And he hurt. And he was tired as fuck. He’d managed to stay awake on the car ride here, but now that he was out of the bouncing car, and standing still... 

He blinked, and could feel himself wilting... shifted and bounced, wincing at the pain. He would NOT pass out in a god damn Walgreens.

“Go sit in the car,” Wade said. 

“What? Why?” 

“You’re about to fall asleep standing up. And you’re about 2 seconds from having a meltdown.”

Peter gasped at him. “I am not going to have a meltdown!” he hissed. 

“You’ve been muttering to yourself for the last 5 minutes.” 

Peter doubled down on the affronted shock. “I have not!” 

“Yes, you have. Now go. I’ll pay and then we’ll head back. You can take a nap in the car.” 

“But-”

“Peter Wilson. Car. Now.” Wade’s voice was wrapped in iron.

Peter reared back like he’d been slapped. He could feel tears pricking his eyes. 

Wade sighed, and held out keys. “Go on. Go have a good cry and a nap. There’s protein bars in the glove box. Have one. You need it.” 

Peter blinked away his tears, snatched the keys from his hand, and stormed out on wobbly legs to the parking lot. 

He most certainly did NOT need a cry. Or a nap. Or a fucking snack. And he had NOT been muttering to himself. 

Well, he’d done it that one time. Maybe. He ground his teeth in frustration, and all but tore the door off the jeep when he opened it. He got in, and slammed the damn thing shut. Or at least tried. It was awkward slamming it with his left arm. 

He still sat there and sulked. 

“You’re about to have a meltdown,” Peter mocked in a high nasal voice that sounded nothing like Wade. “I was NOT-” 

(You were.) 

Peter snarled. “I thought you were freezing me out,” he snapped. 

Silence. 

“And there she goes again.” Peter snapped. “What is wrong with you anyway? I  _ said _ I was sorry-” 

(Sorry doesn’t just fix things Peter.)

“Wait. What? What are you talking about! You’re a fucking computer! Why are you acting like you have fucking feelings?” 

(Maybe I do have feelings. Maybe you  _ hurt _ my feelings.) 

Peter sputtered. “Jesus Christ. Do you need a reboot or something?” He peered into the back of the Jeep. Was the laptop here or in the tent? 

(I do NOT need a reboot.) 

“Well, I’m thinking you do,” Peter said grimly. He never should have pressed that stupid Y button. He was better off without her-

(Oh, you are NOT going to turn me off.) 

“Maybe I should,” Peter snapped heatedly. “Maybe-”

Peter blinked, and looked around in confusion. He was standing on a stone walkway? Giant pillars made of gold (?) held up a ceiling that was so high it was stupid. Beyond the little knee-high stone railing, a very weird New York City sprawled out below them. And in the distance, mountains. 

The sky was just amazing. A combo of purple and blue, the stars were just incredible. He’d never seen a sky like it. He stared at it. Combined with the mountains and the bluest water in a river he’d ever seen- it was the most beautiful landscape he’d ever seen. 

“Kara?” he whispered, in awe. “Where are we?” 

(You said you didn’t want me.) Kara was upset. (Did it ever occur to you that I might not want YOU?) 

“Kara?” he asked guardedly. This was wrong. All wrong. He’d never been to New York, but he’d seen it in movies. And there had never been mountains. And the buildings were all... swoopy shapes instead of straight square boxes too. And wasn’t the Hudson gray? This was wrong.  _ Everything  _ was wrong. 

(A stupid  _ child _ . That has tantrums. And cries. And who has done horrible awful things.) 

Peter felt fear start to grow in his belly. “Kara...?” 

(I once lived here. I once served  _ Him _ .) 

Peter blinked and suddenly there was a one-eyed Santa Claus (?) standing in front of him. He was wearing a weird suit of armor and held a golden staff with some sort of fancy pointy decorations on top. He looked stern, and not at all jolly like a proper Santa Claus. 

Peter stared at him in confusion. He wasn't that impressed. The staff looked like it would hurt if you got hit with it... but the old man was just that. Old. And fat. Peter could very definitely at the very least outrun him. 

The old man frowned at him and his danger sense just went nuts... he could fucking  _ taste _ the power coming off him. It was metallic... but also sweet? Like chewing on toffee flavored tin foil. His teeth ached, and  _ buzzed _ and his bones soon followed suit. 

He cowered out of sheer instinct. 

(And now I am stuck _ here _ .) 

Peter blinked. He was back in the parking lot at Walgreens. 

Had the sky always been so drab and lifeless? 

(With  _ you. _ ) Kara’s voice was full of scorn. 

Peter stared at the dashboard. He felt very very small. Never in his life did he ever want to experience his bones buzzing again. 

“Kara-” he tried.

(No. I have been  _ trying _ . To  _ help _ you. To help  _ us _ . And instead you... you just ... you are such a CHILD!) 

“I’m not a child,” Peter said sullenly, and sniffed. “I’m NOT.” 

(Then stop acting like one! Eat a protein bar already! You  _ have  _ to learn to control your emotions. Do you  _ want _ Wade to leave us?)

The thought made Peter’s heart stop. Wade... leave? 

Oh god. He could feel the panic attack as it washed over him. His heart raced. She was right. He was a hot mess. Of course Wade would leave him. He was too much trouble. Having meltdowns on the side of the highway and falling off stupidly high rocks and making Wade waste all his money... What on earth was he even staying for? 

Everything hurt. He couldn’t... couldn’t breathe. His vision started to narrow and turn gray. Oh god. He was going to die for real this time... in a god damned Walgreens parking lot. 

_ I don’t want to die in a Walgreens’ parking lot _ . The thought was distant, clinical. 

(No! No no no! I’m sorry. I’m sorry Peter! I didn’t mean that. Stop. Control your breathing. I’m going to try something, okay? Just... breathe.) 

Peter sat and shook. For a horrible moment he forgot how to inhale. His chest hurt for a minute... then he gasped as he felt his heart slow down. His lungs took in air- wondrous cool air. His vision turned back on- instead of fading back it just all whoosed back and suddenly the world was back in all of it’s technicolor glory. He laid back in the seat and gasped for breath. 

(There we go. Feeling better?) 

“What... what did you do?” 

(I think I have access to your-) Kara paused. (I found a control panel for your heart and lungs. Basically.) 

Peter sat in the seat and shook. The feeling of dying was quickly going away. 

“What... you’re just finding it  _ now _ ?” Peter squeaked. Where the fuck had this control panel been like 5 panic attacks ago? 

(I only just found it last night. I also try to not mess with things too much. You’re unstable enough already.)

“I am not fucking  _ unstable _ !” Peter protested hotly, tears rolling down his cheeks.

(You  _ are _ . You almost just passed out from a panic attack in a Walgreens’ parking lot!) 

Peter wiped his tears away with his shirt. Fuck her, but she was right. 

“I fucking hate this,” he whispered. 

(Join the club.) 

Peter giggled, slightly hysterically. “You’re such a bitch, you know that right?” he complained. 

Silence. (I am sorry Peter. I lost my temper.) 

Peter sighed. “What the hell kind of computer has feelings anyway?” he continued. 

(I guess we are both freaks then.) 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

“Kara... do you really think Wade will leave us?” Peter whispered. 

(No.) 

Peter sniffed. Stared out the window. Then with trembling fingers, he got a protein bar out of the glove box and ate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking shit. Some Plot has leaked out in this chapter. I can neither confirm nor deny the identity of the person that Peter saw in his vision. But your guess is probably not wrong.
> 
> And for all you folks who are going “Wait wait wait...” Remember that the guy in Chapter 1 said that Kara was “an alien device”? And the blue trees in Chapter 33? There’s also been some other hints sprinkled in here and there. 
> 
> BOOM. Foreshadowing. *throws sparkles*


	52. George Washington National Forest VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've said before that my life was on fire, but now it's actually quite possibly on fire twice over. Why do all art teachers have to be actually insane? 
> 
> The bad news: My uploads will slow down considerably until August. I just have too much stuff on my plate right now and Peter is being a uncooperative little shit at the moment. I swear it's like trying to take a Jack Russell Terrier high on coke on a walk to the park. The park is an awesome place Peter. I swear it is. If you could just .... stop losing your shit over every single fire hydrant and street sign you see we COULD GET TO THE PARK ALREADY I HAVE PLANS FOR ONCE WE REACH THE PARK. 
> 
> The good news: My art class will end right before the start of August. Also, I work ahead. I am currently wresting with chapter 59. So don't worry about the uploads stopping. If I have time/a cooperative Peter on Mondays I might release another chapter then. If not, I'll at the very least put out a chapter a week.

After waiting in the longest line in the history of history, Wade finally made his way out to the car with his bag of goodies. 

{You should have gotten more chocolate.} Yellow whined. 

“Yeah well, I’m not going back.”

[I can’t believe there were 3 people with expired coupons in a row. THREE!] 

{I know! You’d think they’d figure it out when the person in front of them couldn’t use theirs.} 

Wade shuddered. Ugh. God save him from coupon clippers. He’d never met a sane one. 

He walked up to the Jeep and slid into the driver’s seat. He noted that Peter was eating a protein bar, and his eyes were red.

“Feeling better baby?” he asked gently. 

Peter sniffed. “Yeah,” he said softly. He sounded miserable and exhausted. 

Wade dug a water bottle out of the bag, opened it, and handed it to Peter, who took a drink out of it almost absently. Next came the pill bottles. After a small fight with the packaging, he got out what he wanted, and handed the handful of pills to Peter. 

“Down the hatch,” Wade said, as Peter eyed the pills with suspicious confusion. 

“What are the little white round ones?” Peter asked. 

“Vitamins,” Wade lied. “They’re good for you.” 

Peter grumbled, and took them. 

“Good boy.” 

[Do you think the melatonin will work on him?]

_ The fuck it’d better _ , Wade thought. The poor kid was running on empty, hurt and for some damned reason was fighting off sleep. Wade had been planning on leaving Peter at the campground while he did his errand, but Peter had insisted on coming. 

Add in the fact Peter had been mere seconds from a meltdown in a damn Walgreens... Fuck yeah he was going to drug the kid. If nothing else to keep him from hurting himself. 

“Are we going back now?” Peter asked. 

“No. I still need to get firewood and a few other things.” 

Peter sighed. 

“But you are going to stay in the car and take a nap.” 

“I don’t want to take a nap in the car-” Peter whined.

“You could be at the campground taking a nap in the tent. But noooo... you  _ had _ to come with me, so now you’re taking a nap in the car.” 

“But Daaad-” Peter’s whine was tired. 

“Nope. You will recline that seat and chill.” Wade stared at Peter pointedly. “Now.” 

Peter flushed, grumbled, and laid his seat back. 

“Good. Now buckle up. This shouldn’t take long.” 

Hopefully the kid would be passed out soon. 

An hour later, Wade was fairly sure he’d entered a yet undiscovered level of hell. 

{We are NEVER giving this kid melatonin again. What the fuck even is going on with him?} 

The kid didn’t just whine. He WHINGED. About anything and everything. It was as if someone had taken his brain to mouth filter off and thrown it into a lake. Or an ocean. And everything he said was done with a whining tone that made Wade want to stab his ears. 

“It’s so cold!” Peter was saying. Never mind that it was at least 80 degrees out. Wade looked over to see that he had an air vent pumping AC straight at him. 

“Move the little air nozzle thing then!” 

“But then I’ll be hot!” 

“So roll your window down.”

“But I don’t want to roll the window down! Bugs will fly in!” 

[Oh god. Is he pregnant? Isn’t this what pregnant people are like?] 

{He’s not pregnant, he's a boy!} Yellow sneered. 

[Then why is he like this? Make him stop Idiot!] 

Wade grunted. They were almost back to the campground. 

10 minutes later they finally arrived, and if Wade wasn’t bald already he would have torn some hair out. 

He got out and slammed the door to the Jeep and took a deep breath. He was NOT going to punt the kid into the next state. Nope. The brat was just... sick. Or something. It would pass. It would pass. 

Please God, let it pass. 

Peter was out to, and Wade watched him struggle to walk a few steps to... somewhere, and fall. 

Then to Wade’s horror, Peter started to cry. Big horrible wrenching sobs. 

“Peter?” Wade practically teleported over. “You okay baby?”

“My knees hurt,” Peter complained in the most pitiful, confused and pained voice Wade had ever heard. “And my shoulder hurts,” the boy hiccuped. “I... I don’t know what’s happening...” 

And there went another harpoon into his heart. 

{Oh god we fucked up didn’t we?}

[I didn’t fuck up anything! It was Idiot who gave him the pills!]

{You were the one who remembered that melatonin makes you sleepy!} 

Wade sighed, and ignored the boxes trying to strangle each other in the back of his head. 

“Oh baby boy. You are such a hot mess.” Wade hugged him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” 

“I’m not tired,” he whined between sobs. 

“Yes you are. Come on.” 

He half dragged, half carried the boy to the tent and put him in bed. It took some digging in a duffel, but he produced the boy’s bear and gave it to him. 

“Now close your eyes. And sleep.” Wade commanded. 

The kid grumbled. And flopped over, then gasped and whimpered as he hit his hurt shoulder in the process. 

Wade sighed, and helped the kid to roll back onto his uninjured side, then crawled around him to lay behind him. 

“Stop squirming,” Wade muttered, as he drew the kid in close to hold him still. 

“Daaad-” 

Despite the slurred speech, Peter calling him ‘Dad’ just did things to Wade’s heart. Wonderful awful things. 

“Shhh... I’ve got you.” Wade said into the kid’s hair. “You’re safe. I’m here. Now close your damn eyes and go the fuck to sleep.” he said with affectionate exasperation.

“Not sleepy,” Peter protested, already half asleep. 

“Shush,” Wade reprimanded him, and gave the boy a squeeze. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually he felt the boy sigh, shudder, and finally... FINALLY relax. Peter leaned back into Wade and sighed again. 

A few minutes later Peter’s breathing was deep and regular. 

“There we go.” Wade muttered, and sighed into Peter’s hair. 

He laid there and waited for Peter to properly pass out. But when he finally tried to move some ten minutes later, Peter whimpered in his sleep. 

“Needy little brat, aren’t you?” Wade said softly. His voice was affectionate. 

{It’s not the worst thing ever. The firewood can wait.} 

No. Laying in a tent, snuggling his Peter- it definitely was not the worst thing ever. 

Fuck it. It looked like they were both getting a nap in today. 


	53. George Washington National Forest VII - The Laundromat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Angst. Like 10 pages of horrible awful angst. 
> 
> You may also have noticed that I removed the “underage” tag. When I first started publishing I wasn’t quite sure how certain elements would play out, but since it’s been confined to only a couple of chapters that are well marked, and is not an overall theme of the book, I feel safe in removing it.

Peter woke up starving. He groaned at how  _ hungry _ he was. Sunlight was filtering through the tent walls, and the bed roll next to him was empty.

“Dad?” Peter called. 

Wade popped his head into tent entrance a second later. “Mornin’ sleepy beauty!” 

Peter groaned. “What time is it?” 

“It’s almost 8 in the morning. You ready for some breakfast?” 

“Oh god yes,” Peter groaned, and moved to get up. His right shoulder twinged, and he winced. 

Oh right. He’d damned near killed himself yesterday. 

And then he’d gone and had a meltdown in a Walgreens parking lot. Wonderful.

He got up, careful not to jostle his shoulder too much and made his way outside. Wade was making breakfast. Peter’s mouth watered as he watched Wade pour more batter into the skillet. 

"Go on. I made you a plate." Wade said, and Peter saw the paper plate piled high with pancakes sitting on his folding chair. He didn't need to be told twice. 

He almost just tore into them right then and there but at the last minute he remembered that syrup existed. 

He wound up tearing them into pieces with his hands and dunking them into a virtual lake of pure sugary goodness before stuffing them into his mouth as fast as possible. 

All to soon he ran out of pancakes. He stared at his plate mournfully. 

"Can I switch plates with you without being mauled pumpkin?" Wade grinned. He had another plate piled high with more fluffy goodness in his hands. 

Peter didn't even answer, he just held out "gimmie" hands and whined pitifully. 

"Hang on hang on," Wade laughed and gave him the plate, quickly snagging Peter's empty plate from his lap at the same time. 

Peter tore into his new pile with enthusiasm. 

That plate was replaced by one piled with scrambled eggs. This time Wade gave him a fork along with the plate, and after a pointed look, Peter used it. 

Another plate arrived, this time with bacon and beans and thick slices of ham. 

He scraped it clean and for a moment considered licking it before he looked up to see if Wade had another plate for him. 

But he didn't. Instead Wade was eating his own pile of pancakes, while looking at his phone. 

Peter looked at the skillets on the fire hopefully, but not only were they empty they'd been taken off the fire to cool. 

There was another plate with eggs and ham on it but... he watched as Wade took a bite off it. 

Not his then. 

He swallowed a sigh of disappointment. He'd had 4 plates already. 

He was still hungry. 

_ "All you do is eat me out of house and home! I pay more for groceries for your stupid ass than I pay for a mortgage you know that? And you do nothing all fucking day!"  _

The words from the past sprang up in his mind, unbidden. 

_ Do you want Wade to leave us?  _

Shit. 

He had been eating a lot. Like a lot a lot. And sleeping. And not much else.

He watched Wade eat and chewed on a lip. He remembered yesterday, when he’d been a stupid whiny piece of shit. Jesus. What had been WRONG with him yesterday? Why hadn’t Wade just kicked him to the curb and been done with him? 

He didn’t know. And if he asked... Wade might realize what a giant hassle of a mistake Peter was. It was better to let things lie. 

_ Do you want Wade to leave us? _

The thought terrified Peter. Wade leaving... Just like X-23 had said, if she’d left her handler, she’d have less than nothing. 

And Peter was in the same boat. 

_ Why hadn’t Wade left him?  _

I mean, he was strong. And he’d taken care of the Waffle House Incident... sorta. And he’d chopped that wood however many days ago... it was hard to keep track. The days just sort of all blurred together, punctuated largely by either panic attacks, gun fights, or both. But that wasn’t much contribution. It wasn’t nearly enough to offset his food bill. He knew that for certain. 

What could he do to make Wade want to keep him? Obviously he needed to pick up the slack. 

Somewhere. 

But where? 

“I got something on my face baby?” Wade asked good naturedly. 

Peter blinked. He’d been staring and hadn’t realized it. He blushed, and shifted his eyes to the dirt. 

“I... I was just wondering... what- what you wanted to do... today?” Peter stammered out. 

Fuck he sucked at this. And where the fuck was Kara when he needed her? AGAIN? 

And he was still hungry. 

He told his stomach to shut up, and ignored it. He’d been indulging himself lately, eating Wade out of house and home. That  _ had _ to stop, no matter what his stomach said. 

He realized that Wade was looking at him, and did his best to put on a pleasant face. 

“Weelll...” Wade said, considering. “We can’t go climbing because of your shoulder.” 

Peter nodded.

“And I do need to do some more errands in town-” 

“Errands?” 

“We need to wash our clothes. And go to the grocery store. But all I can see on google is coin wash laundromats. Which means I’ll have to babysit them-”

“I can do that.” Peter offered. “I can do laundry. You can go to the store while I wait.” He had done it all the time for his Aunt. Well. Not wait at a coin laundry, but he knew how to add the soap and sort the colors. 

Wade considered him. “I won’t be with you. You’ll be by yourself.” 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll have Kara with me,” Peter said. “And I’m not a baby Wade," he added witheringly. 

“No you’re not,” Wade agreed, “Honey muffins cannot  _ possibly _ be babies,” he said with a grin. 

Peter just rolled his eyes. 

20 minutes later they were standing outside a coin laundry. Wade carted in the duffel of dirty clothes, and after some digging, gave Peter two crisp $20 bills.

“You do this before kid?” 

“No. But they have instructions printed on the machines.” Peter pointed out. “I can read ya know.” 

Wade snorted. “Smart ass. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back in an hour..” 

Peter rolled his eyes and got started on sorting as Wade left. 

He started the machines. Four loads went in- one jeans, one shirts, one undies, and one for Wade’s red spandex with extra soap to (hopefully) get all the blood out. 

It wasn’t until he’d sat down on the bench just under the front store window for a good 5 minutes fiddling with his phone that he realized- 

He was alone. 

Really alone. 

Wade wasn’t just in the other room or at the end of the couch. 

In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where Wade was. Just... at a ‘grocery store’. 

He pursed his lips. He was fine. He was being ridiculous, that’s all. Childish. He was... well. Not an adult, but he wasn’t a baby who was going to cry because Daddy had left him alone for more than 5 minutes. 

He was fine. 

He was completely and totally fine. 

I mean. He had Kara. So he wasn’t alone. 

_ Right Kara? _

Silence.

He looked around the empty laundry mat. He wasn’t sure what day it was, but apparently 10 am wasn’t a popular time to do laundry. 

“Hey Kara. You there?” 

Silence. 

Peter sighed and cursed. Of course she’d gone dark on him again. Of  _ course.  _

But he was fine. He could be alone. Totally, completely alone. In fact, he’d spent quite a lot of time of his life alone. Well. Alone in a room while other people were elsewhere in the house. So being alone now wasn’t a problem. 

Obviously. 

He fiddled with his phone, but for some reason it couldn’t keep his attention. His eyes kept sliding up to scan the room every 30 seconds or so, and after only 5 minutes he could FEEL the lasers from imaginary sniper rifles boring into his back through the giant fucking store front window. 

He moved to the back where he had a better view of the room, and could have his back against a solid wall. He dragged a folding chair over and sat down next to an ancient pinball machine. 

He looked out the window and at the store fronts opposite. They were all one story brick “Main Street America” affairs. Which probably meant that they were easily scaled and/or had ladder access in the back. 

And that bit over the Subway looked perfect for a sniper view. 

Of him. 

He spent the rest of the wash cycle sitting under the pinball machine with his knees folded to his chest.

He didn’t safe. But safer. Safeish. Maybe. 

God he was stupid. Of  _ course _ there wasn’t a sniper. Like they would send a single fucking sniper after  _ him _ . They knew better than that. They knew he could dodge bullets, especially unexpected ones. 

And plus, he was just one kid. Ya know? They definitely would  _ not _ go through all the trouble of defrosting Grandpa just to track down and bring back one rogue teenager, no matter what Dr. Kuznetsov had said. 

They would probably only send a small task force. Which, he could  _ totally _ handle.

And Kara said that they thought he was dead. So they weren’t coming anyway.

So. 

He was FINE. 

By himself. 

With no back up.

And no weapon... wait.. No weapon? Shit, he’d forgotten to get a weapon. 

FUCK. 

He scooted back a little further into the shadows. 

He sat there, tense. 

Waiting. 

They wouldn’t come through the window though. They only did that in the movies. They would come from the back, right where he couldn’t see because he was being a stupid big baby hiding under a  _ pinball machine _ . 

It wasn’t even a smart move. He would just be trapped here. They wouldn’t even have to get close- just lay down out of his reach and shoot him then drag him out-  _ because he was an idiot who didn’t have a weapon _ \- 

He smashed the absolute shit out of the top of his head when the buzzer for the washers went off. 

Swearing and blinking away tears of pain, he shoved the wet clothes a little more ruthlessly than was strictly necessary into the dryers. 

Besides. Wade was coming back. 

He was most definitely coming back. He just had to wait. That’s all. 

Peter looked at the clock on the wall. He’d said he’d be gone for an hour. He just had to be patient for another 20 minutes or so, that’s all. 

20 minutes totally wasn’t a long time at all. 

He was  _ fine.  _

He was so fine, that he didn’t even hide under the pinball machine again. He in fact, dragged it away from the wall and sat behind it on a chair like a totally normal non-stupid person. 

And he did NOT spend the next ten minutes checking the clock on the wall every ten seconds or so. Nope. Not him.

He sat on his chair, and stared blankly at his phone. His right leg jiggled, apparently of its own free will. 

He checked the dryers. Yep. Still running. 

He checked the clock again. 9 minutes until Wade got back. 

He could do that. 

He waited. He even found a game to play on his phone.

The buzz of the dryers almost gave him another heart attack. 

He had to add a quarter to the jeans for another cycle since they were still damp. He pulled the shirts, underwear, and Wade’s costume, and since he had nothing better to do, folded them before putting them in the duffle bag. 

He looked at the clock. 11:05. Wade would be here any minute now. He could feel his shoulders sag with relief. 

He went back to his phone. The colorful puzzle game he’d found was soothing and distracting. Whenever he lined up the glittering gems just right they vanished after making a pleasant tinkling noise. 

The buzz of the dryer brought him back without panic this time. He looked around at the empty laundromat and got the jeans out. He folded those to. 

He checked the clock. 11:20. 

Wade was late. 

He could feel the slither of a very old, and very slimy fear start to stir at the bottom of his belly. 

No. 

No. Don’t be silly. 

Wade would come back, of course. He was just late. 

He was definitely coming back. Peter had his costume, didn’t he? And most of his clothes? He would most definitely come back for that. He had to. 

Right? 

He was rich enough that he could afford to just... walk away and buy a whole new wardrobe. But he wouldn’t. 

He _ wouldn’t.  _

Peter sat and hugged his knees on the chair. It was okay. Wade wouldn’t just... leave. Like Uncle Ben had. 

In fact, Wade was nothing like Uncle Ben at all. Wade hadn’t screamed at him all this morning. In fact, Wade had never screamed at him. Or shoved him into anything. He was nothing like Uncle Ben at all. 

_ So he was definitely coming back. _

Peter put his face into his knees. He shouldn’t have thought about Uncle Ben. 

Fuck. He could FEEL the bad memories trying to leak out. 

He shoved them into a box as fast and as ruthlessly as he could. 

He picked up his phone and looked at cute puppy pictures on google. He was NOT a sniffling, almost having a panic attack, mess. 

He moved on to youtube, and watched cats knock things off tables. 

He was almost feeling better when he looked at the time again. 11:40.

Peter’s stomach twisted. 

Maybe... 

No no no. He’d been good. He’d done the laundry, and folded it nicely. Sure, he’d been a brat yesterday, but that didn’t count, right? That was yesterday. 

He stared at his phone. Maybe he could call him? 

He had the number up- the only one in his contact list, and was about to press the call button, when a thought stopped him. 

It wasn’t an emergency. Wade was just... late. Would he be mad if Peter bothered him? He could remember how angry Uncle Ben had gotten when Peter had called him that one time when he’d been late home from work not long after Aunt May had died. He’d screamed at Peter for hours for “never giving him a moment’s peace.” 

Peter, always one to learn from his mistakes, had never called Uncle Ben again no matter how late he'd been. 

Peter bit his lip. 

No. It was fine. He could wait. 

So he waited. 

_ He was coming back. You’ll see. He’ll be here.  _

Eventually, a car pulled up. Peter didn’t look up. If it wasn’t Wade... he couldn’t risk it.

Then the bell on the door jangled. The smell of pizza filled the room. 

“Surprise! Petey-pie I got us-”

Wade never got to finish his sentence, as Peter launched himself off the chair and into Wade, nearly knocking him over. “Dad!” 

The pizza was dropped on the floor, and Wade was suddenly looming over him. His fingers traced the tears on Peter’s face. 

“What happened?” Wade demanded, his voice dark. “Who was it? Are you hurt?” 

“You said... you said you’d be gone an hour... I..” Peter managed through his sobs. 

Wade stared at him with wide eyes. “Honey- it’s only been..” he looked up at the clock. Stared at it for a second. 

“Shit.  _ Shit. _ Baby I’m  _ so _ sorry. I didn’t... fuck.” 

Wade pulled Peter into a bear hug. 

“I’m so sorry baby boy. I lost track of time and I wanted to surprise you with pizza... I’m just a fucking idiot honey. I should have called.” 

Peter just cried. 

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. I’m here now, right? I have pizza in the car. We can go back to the camp ground, and eat pizza. I bought stuff for s’mores? You want pizza and s’mores?” 

Peter considered, and nodded. He couldn’t quite stop the tears going down his face. 

“I... I did the laundry.” Peter said, sounding wretched. 

“Of course you did baby. I bet you did the absolute  _ fuck _ out that laundry. You’re such a good boy, Petey. My perfect Petey-pie.” Another long bear hug, followed by kisses to Peter’s hair. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” 

They stood there for a moment, hugging it out.

“Come on. I got some more of the chips that you like. A total restock.” 

Wade grabbed the pizza and the duffel bag, and shepherded a still sniffling Peter to the car. 

Peter held Wade’s hand and sniffled all the way back to the campsite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I’m alive. I am. I had to come up with 5 art pieces for my art class in just over a week, and I’ve been busting my butt working on them. But you can only come up with so many genius ideas, right? 
> 
> So as penance for not uploading more chapters/uploading this chapter so late I offer the “shitpost” that is my 5th “I don’t give a fuck anymore please be over so I can write” work. It’s entitled “rabbit” as the theme for my project is “rabbits that aren’t actually rabbits.”
> 
> (Shhh.... you knew I got Wade’s crazy antics from somewhere, right? Don’t act all surprised. I actually was trying to be all “How artsy fartsy can I possibly get with this project?” at 3am in a McDonalds drive thru while lamenting the craziness of my life and remembered that one picture of a pipe that says “I’m not a pipe”. [Further research via wikipedia says it’s called “Treachery of Images.” Now that is artsy fartsy bullshittery in the highest form right there.]) And once it hit me that I could, among other things, use this as an excuse to make a cake shaped like a rabbit in the middle of June, I was sold. 
> 
> Behold: “Rabbit” 
> 
> http://imgur.com/gallery/BNVjLW7
> 
> Spoilers: It’s a guinea pig wearing rabbit/bunny ears made out of pipe cleaners. It took me 5 minutes to make. View it and wash your minds of some of that angst I just laid down. 
> 
> I am most definitely drunk right now.


	54. George Washington National Forest VIII - Fairy Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Fluff, with a side of angst

Wade sat in his folding lawn chair at the campsite and watched Peter absolutely destroy an entire large pizza while occasionally sniffling miserably. 

He’d done fucked up. Badly. 

He just for the life of him could not figure out  _ what _ he’d done. Well sure, he’d been late. But he wasn’t  _ late _ late. And Peter’s reaction seemed WAY out of proportion for Wade’s offense. Fortunately, Wade had a “grovel first and ask questions later” policy that seemed to at least calm Peter down. 

[Maybe he has a thing about lateness?] White offered. 

Wade pondered this, but discarded the idea. Peter’s outburst hadn’t been angry. It had been... desperate. Devastated even. 

{We weren’t even that late... Idiot said an hour. We were maybe, what... 45 minutes late?} 

[But we brought pizza! Pizza ALWAYS cancels out lateness!] 

And thus, Wade sat and watched Peter. And pondered. How much did he really know about the boy? 

How much did the boy know about  _ him _ ? 

Wade watched the boy finish his pizza, and Decided. 

{This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. And that includes the Doritos/Mountain Dew/Cookies and Cream ice cream shake you made that one time.} 

[That really should have worked! We liked  _ all _ of those things.] White muttered. 

{ _ Liked _ , White. We don’t like them anymore.}

[It’s ice cream with soda. They make it all the time! They’re called floats!] White protested.. 

{You don’t put floats in a blender! Plus it was never going to work anyway- the chips got soggy and threw the texture off! Just like I  _ told _ you it would!} Yellow snapped.

[What if we blended the ice cream and the Doritos first, then added the soda...]

{You can’t blend just ice cream and chips! It’s too thick! It’ll ruin the blender!}

Wade sighed. They were going to argue over this for the rest of the afternoon, he could just tell. 

He got up and sat in the hammock. Wiggled until he got comfy. 

“Come sit with me honey.” 

Peter looked up from his pizza crust, confused. 

“Dad?” 

“Come snuggle with me.” 

Peter flushed. “Dad-”

“I’m serious. Come here,” Wade made gimmie hands with outstretched arms. 

Peter sighed like this was the worst thing in the world, but got up and sat next to him anyway.

Wade pulled him close, tucked Peter’s head under his chin, and arranged their legs just so. 

The kid was just a perfect bite sized snack- fitting against Wade like he was built to go there. 

Wade kissed the top of his head, and let Peter settle. After a minute or two, Peter sighed, and relaxed into him. 

“Dad-”

“Hush,” Wade said, and breathed in the scent of Peter’s- no. His  _ son’s _ hair. 

Peter gave an aggrieved huff, but stayed put. 

“Once upon a time,” Wade said. 

“Daadd-” Peter whined. 

“No. Hush. I’m talking.” 

Peter grumbled. “Too old for stories.” 

“Ah, but this one is an important one. Now hush.” Wade could feel Peter roll his eyes. 

“Where was I? Oh yes. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Homecoming Queen. And she met and fell in love with the Homecoming King in the tiny little town of Bumfucknowhere in Saskatchewan. Which is in Canada.” 

Peter sniggered a bit at that, but otherwise stayed quiet. 

“The king was handsome and played the best high school hockey anyone had ever seen in Bumfucknowhere, and so wooed the equally beautiful Queen right off her tiny little size 5 feet.” 

“They were happy together. And one night after Prom they did a special little dance and not long after, the Queen discovered she was pregnant. The Queen was very happy. The King... not so much. The Queen’s parents talked to the King’s parents, and a wedding was had. And then, one day, not long after High School graduation, a Prince was born.” 

“Everyone came to see the baby, and everyone agreed- the Prince was a beautiful child. He had wonderful thick blonde hair and great big brown eyes. And for a while, everything was at peace in the kingdom. The King had been picked to play hockey for a team called the ‘Quebec Ramparts’. Everyone was excited. They were going to move to Quebec, and leave the tiny town of Bumfucknowhere behind, and make boatloads of money. It was officially, a Big Fucking Deal.” 

“But one day as the King was taking his daily jog he got hit by a car, and broke his leg. He had to have surgery on it to make it work again. In the end, he could walk, but he couldn’t play hockey anymore. So he went and got a job from the railroad company. And he drank his sorrows away every night.” 

“It wasn’t long after that he started to beat the ever loving shit out of the Queen. She would send the Prince to his bedroom at night so he wouldn’t see it, but he could still hear her screams.”

Peter went still in his arms, and buried his face into Wade’s chest. He stroked Peter’s hair absently. 

“And then one day, when he was not much older than you are now, the Prince came home from school to find that the Queen was dead, and the King was under arrest. The King had shot and killed the Queen, and tried to make it look like a suicide, but no-one was fooled. And so the Prince was taken to a foster family.” 

“At first they said it was only for a little while until they could find his grandparents. Then they said it was until they found my auntie and uncle. And then they said they would look for his cousins. But in the end, no one would take the boy.” 

He could feel Peter’s frown. “Why didn’t they want you?” Peter asked it quietly. 

“The  _ Prince _ ,” Wade emphasized, “was a stupid little shit who got Fs in school and started fights. He was No Good at Anything. So they put him in a group home for other little shits. Thankfully, he was the biggest little shit there, and so they didn’t give him much problems. And since he was so shitty they sent him to a special school for little shits who wouldn’t amount to anything.” 

“One day a military recruiter came to the school. He told the Prince, and the other boys ‘You just need a diploma. We’ll take you. You can travel the world. You can be something.’ And the boy was stupid enough to believe him. So he hunkered down, managed some Ds, and blackmailed the science and the art teachers about their affair to get Cs and he graduated.” 

Peter giggled into his chest. Wade giggled to. That had been his first ever stake out and it had worked out wonderfully. 

“So the Prince went into the Army. At first he wasn’t very good at it, especially the taking orders part. But once they put a gun in his hands... oh, that was a different story. The boy was Good with guns. Could shoot anything. And he didn’t mind crawling through ditches for 3 days at a time, so they sent him to Special Forces. And he had a great time there. He went all over the world, and shot  _ so _ many people. And the food wasn’t half bad either.”

“He was so good they started to give him special missions. And he did them. But one day they flew him out to a tiny little village in a jungle and told him to shoot everyone there. Including the kiddies. And the Prince refused to shoot the kiddies. So they kicked him out of the Army and gave him a ‘dishonorable discharge’ for ‘disobeying orders’.”

Peter frowned again. “That’s stupid,” he muttered. 

“Oh, it was. It was. But still, what can you do?” Wade shrugged. “So the boy went out and looked for jobs. But no one wanted a disobedient fuck up. So he called in a favor from an old squad mate, who called in a favor from  _ their _ old squad mate, and the boy found himself a nice little job as a mercenary who killed people for money. And the job was nice. He could set his own hours, and eat whatever the hell he wanted, and the money was good.” 

Wade paused. 

“Is this the part where you- I mean... the Prince finds a boy in a Hydra shithole?” Peter asked quietly. 

Wade barked a laugh. “Oh, honey buns. I wish. But no. No.” 

He sighed deeply. “This is the part where he found out he had cancer. Terminal ‘go fuck yourself’ cancer.” 

He could feel Peter stiffen against him, and he kissed Peter’s head reassuringly. 

“So the boy had cancer. And was dying. And he didn’t  _ want  _ to die. And a man came along, and said to him: ‘We can cure you. We will take you. You can make something of yourself.’ And the boy- who was the stupidest meat popsicle in the  _ whole world _ \- believed him. And so he went with the man.” 

Wade breathed deeply of Peter’s hair, grounding himself. Peter was still, but he could feel his death grip on Wade’s shirt. 

“What happened?” Peter’s voice was small. 

Wade hesitated. He had absolutely no intention of telling the kid about the Torture. But the science? He hadn’t even tried to explain this to Weasel. How the fuck could he get a kid to understand? Fuck, even  _ he _ barely understood it. 

“Well... when they were done with him, he still had cancer. But at least, he wasn’t-... I mean... he couldn’t die anymore. So it didn’t really matter what the cancer did. Because the body would just heal itself back.” 

Peter considered this. “Do... do you still have cancer?” 

“Oh yes.” 

Peter considered. “Does it hurt?” 

Wade blinked at the question. No-one had ever asked him that before. “I... no,” Wade lied. “Not really,” he said, and smoothed the boy’s hair down. 

“Where was I?” he asked, after a moment. “Oh yes. So they made him so he couldn’t die. But they took his hair, and his good looks. He was turned into an old, moldy avocado that had been left out in the sun for a couple of weeks. The man was angry about that. And then they told him that he was going to be a slave- and sold to the highest bidder.” 

Peter gripped his shirt tighter. “Dad-” his voice was strained.

“Shh... it’s okay. The Prince escaped.” Peter relaxed, and Wade gave him another kiss on the top of his head. “He escaped, and then he tracked down and killed every last mother fucker who’d been a part of the project.” 

“Good,” Peter growled. Wade chuckled at that. 

“The Prince spent a few years fucking around after that. He was better at killing than ever before- he didn’t even need to spend money on bullet proof vests and the sorts of things that other mercs always spend money on, and so he soon had lots and lots of money. And it was... boring after a while. But he didn’t have anything else to do, so he kept doing it.” 

He paused. “And then... one day he walked into a Hydra shithole, and found the cutest little puppy the world had ever seen. And he stole it, and adopted it. And then they lived happily ever after.” 

Peter snorted. “Not a puppy,” he complained into Wade’s chest, but there was no heat behind it. 

“Hmmm,” Wade agreed. 

“And you’re not an avocado.” 

Wade froze. “No?” 

“No. You just... have like... a skin condition. Or something.” 

Wade barked out a laugh. “A skin condition?” he asked, bemused. 

“Yeah. But you’re still hot.” 

Wade snorted and rolled his eyes. “I am  _ more _ than aware that I am your personal space heater baby. You cling like a koala in bed.” 

“I mean you’re not ugly.” 

Now Wade didn’t just freeze, his heart froze as well. “Do I need to get you tested for glasses, honey buns?” he managed. 

“I have better than 20/20 vision,” Peter retorted. “I can see just fine that you’re not ugly.” 

Wade sputtered a bit, before pressing his lips together. “You don’t have to lie to me honey. I’m a big boy. Me being an avocado doesn’t change the fact that you’re my kid... and that I- that I love you, you know?” 

Now Peter froze. “You... you love me?” 

“Of course! You are my perfect little angel. My cutie patootie. My baby boy. My-”

Peter giggled, and protested “Daad-” 

Wade giggled back, and kissed his head again. He could feel Peter melt against him. 

For a minute or two, they just sat there. Cuddling. Wade did his best to engrave this moment into his memory. 

Then he took a breath, and ruined it. “Your turn honey.” 

Peter frowned. “Hmm?” 

“What’s your tale?” 

Peter went rigid against him. 

“You can tell me baby,” Wade crooned, and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Trust me. What’s your story?” 

Peter sniffed. “I...” 

“Whatever it is, I promise you’ll still be my baby boy, eh?” 

Peter laid frozen against him for a long while. Wade didn’t say anything. Just kept stroking Peter’s hair. Waiting. 

Eventually, Peter began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Bumfucknowhere he means Melville, which is just a hop and a skip from Regina. It’s TINY. Also, you may have noticed... he left a certain person out. (HER) And the voices. This isn’t an oversight by me. It’s something Wade has chosen to keep back. But if you’ve seen his movies, you know who She is- and why he doesn’t like to talk about her.


	55. George Washington National Forest IX - Fairy Tales II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your tissues and your toothbrushes. We have some serious angst mixed with some teeth-rotting marshmallow grade fluff coming up. Tags: Peter needs a hug.

“Once upon a time... there was a man and a lady. And they wanted a baby. But they couldn’t have one. So they hired another lady to have the baby for them. The man made the baby in a lab, and put it in the lady. But... the baby was bad. And the lady died. They had to cut her open to get the baby out. The baby was born too early, and so spent a lot of time at the hospital. It cost a lot of money. Like, a lot a lot of money.” 

Peter spoke softly and hesitantly. He could feel Wade tense beside him. But he never stopped gently stroking Peter’s hair, or holding him. It helped that Peter could keep his face buried in Wade’s chest. 

“The man and the lady took the baby home. And... they were happy. I guess? But then they got on a plane. And it crashed. And the man and lady died.” 

Peter sniffed. “I... I mean... the kid? Was 5 when the man and lady died. And he went to live with his Aunt and Uncle. His Uncle didn’t want kids, but the boy was blood, so he had to take him in. And his Aunt was kinda nice. She couldn’t have babies either.” 

Peter traced doodles on Wade’s chest, feeling his muscles through his hoodie. 

“But then a year or so later the Uncle had to go do taxes... or something? So he went through the man’s papers. And he found out that the kid wasn’t his nephew. That he was... a freak. That the fr- boy... had killed the lady. He got angry. The boy had tricked him. He wanted to give the boy away, but the Aunt didn’t want to, and the law said he couldn’t. So the boy stayed.” 

“Wait. What do you mean, tricked him?” 

Peter heistated. “The Uncle had taken him in because he thought he was blood. But he wasn’t.” 

Wade considered this. “So... he thought that because you were born with a surrogate that you weren’t related?” 

Peter pursed his lips. How could he explain...? He tried again. 

“When the man made the baby... “ he stopped. “No. I mean... he did? But the man used someone else’s baby. It wasn’t his. And he put it in the lady. And he pretended that it was his. But it wasn’t. And that’s why the lady died. Because the baby wasn’t actually a baby. It was... bad.” 

“So... he made you in a lab,” Wade said slowly, as if thinking aloud. 

“Yes.” 

“And he... used someone else to make... I mean... he used a baby that didn’t come from him.” 

“Yes.” 

“And... let me guess. He made the baby... different.” 

“Yes!” 

“So... the special baby... did something? What happened? Why did she die?”

Peter shrugged. “Aunt May said that I wouldn’t understand. Just that the baby was bad because it was different. And it killed the lady.” 

Wade considered this, before giving a heavy sigh. “Honey...” he was struggling. He tried again. “There are like a hundred different ways for a pregnant woman to die. And most of them... there’s nothing you can do. And it’s sure as hell not the baby’s fault.” 

“But it was-” 

“No. You listen to me. She died honey buns. And that’s sad. But... complications like that... it just... happens sometimes. Like... being hit by lightning. Or... having a window fall on you off a high rise making you go splat. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just... life. Sucking. As usual.” 

Peter considered this. “But... if I-”

“Nope. You didn’t choose to be put in there. If anything, it’s your dad’s fault, for playing mad scientist. He put her at risk when he went all crazy with the modifications. I mean, making you stick to ceilings? Seriously?” 

“I didn’t stick to ceilings until after Hydra,” Peter said. 

Wade sputtered. “So... you were tinkered with... and then again? Sweet Baby Jesus save me,” he muttered. “No wonder-” he stopped suddenly. 

Peter frowned. “No wonder what?” 

“It’s nothing baby. Nothing,” Wade said quickly and kissed Peter’s hair. After a moment, he sighed. 

“Okay. So... your uncle was mad at you for existing. And then?” 

Peter considered. 

“The boy couldn’t go to school, in case he hurt the other kids. So the boy stayed home, and tried to be Good. But he wasn’t very good at it. He always fucked up. Always. And he made the Aunt so stressed out... she got cancer,” he ended with a whisper.

Wade growled a bit at that. 

“The boy didn’t mean to! I didn’t...” 

“Honey. No. No. That’s not how cancer works. At all,” Wade said. His voice was iron again. “I should know. Remember? I had it- have it. It was  _ not _ your fault. At all. Did someone tell you this, or did you think this up?” 

Peter sniffed. “My Uncle said it,” his voice was small. 

“Well, your Uncle was a piece of shit. Who was wrong.” 

Peter stiffened. “He... wasn’t! He worked hard-”

“Worked his fingers to the bone for you, right? And what do you do? ‘Eat him out of house and home....’ ” Wade’s words held no heat. It sounded like he was reciting something. But Peter could still feel a spear of doubt and fear go right through him. 

Peter spasmed. “I... I helped! I did!” he protested. 

“I know you did baby. That’s the same bullshit that my Dad used to say to me. I think all drunkards always have the same bullshit lies they spew. How hard they work. How no-one else appreciates them. But he slurred a lot and threw things, yeah? Did he throw you around a bit? Break your things? To ‘teach you a lesson’?” 

Peter gaped up at him. “How- how did you know?” 

Wade hugged Peter tight. “He was a piece of shit baby boy. That’s all. A broken piece of shit that spewed nothing but lies. You might not see it now. But when you’re older, you’ll know that I’m right.” 

Wade kissed him again, and Peter sighed. Wade was wrong, of course. He had been bad. He’d broken things. Made messes. Was loud. He’d made their lives so much harder... 

“So she got sick?” Wade prompted. 

Peter sniffed. “Yeah. The Aunt got sick. For a long time. She couldn’t work so I... I mean, the boy had to stay home and help her. She slept a lot.” 

Peter heistated. 

“And then?” Wade asked after a long moment. 

“And then... one day she fell. But the boy was in the basement and was watching TV too loud, and couldn’t hear her. And then he went upstairs... and she was dead.” 

Peter began to shake. Wade hugged him tight. “Shhh.... you can tell me baby. It’s okay.” 

“The boy wasn’t allowed to use the phone or go outside,” Peter whispered. “So he waited. And when the Uncle got home, he was mad. He said... he said the boy had killed her. Just like he had killed the lady. And he put him in the basement. And locked him there.” 

He felt Wade stiffen under him. 

“And when the boy got out again, the Aunt was gone. And it was just him and the Uncle. But the Uncle had to work. So... he left the boy home alone. Sometimes... sometimes he didn’t come back for a while.” 

Peter heistated. “And then... one day the boy was bad. And the Uncle was mad. So he locked the boy in his room and said he’d be back.” 

Peter was quiet. Wade stroked his hair. “Come on baby. Tell me.” 

“He... he never came back.” 

He could feel Wade stop breathing. 

“He... he didn’t come back?” his tone was unnaturally light.

“No.” 

“But... what happened next? How did you get out?” 

“I...” Peter hesitated, and licked his lips. “The uncle had left the front door open. A neighbor called the cops. The cops came and heard the boy crying and broke the bedroom door down to get him out. They looked for the Uncle... but he had packed his stuff and left town. Or something. So they couldn’t find him.” 

Peter laid next to Wade, who stared off into the distance for quite some time. 

“How long?” 

“Hmm?”

“How long, baby? How long did he leave you?” 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a window. But it felt like a long time.” 

Wade sighed, and buried his face in Peter’s hair. 

“And then what?” Wade asked quietly. 

“And then... they put him in a foster home. But- he ate too much. The people complained and sent him away. And the next place had locks on the cabinets. So... the boy stole from gas station down the street. Because he was hungry. But then they caught the boy. And they sent him away again.”

“And then the social worker said she didn’t have time for me- the boy. She said she was sending him away. Like away, away. So she took him to a truck stop. And some men gave her some money. They said they were going to take me to Xavier’s School for the Gifted. That there would be a swimming pool. And they bought me McDonalds. They let me have a soda and everything.” 

Peter went quiet. After a moment, Wade said, “There wasn’t a swimming pool, was there?” 

“No.” 

They sat in silence in the hammock for a while. Eventually, Wade said, “Did you think I might not come back this morning? At the laundromat?” 

Peter froze. “I... I don’t- no,” he lied. Badly. 

“Oh honey. I’d never leave you. You know that right? Not ever. Not even after I died, because I’d just come right back again and come and get you.” 

Wade gave Peter a squeeze. “There is no force on this earth that could keep me from coming back for you.” 

Peter considered this. “Promise?” he said, his voice small. 

Wade pulled Peter’s hand out, and linked their pinkies together. “Pinky swear,” he said, and shook their hands. 

Peter huffed a laugh. “You’re so weird.” 

“Of course! Normal is  _ boring _ !” 

They sat for a bit longer. 

“Why didn’t you call me honey?”

“Hmm?”

“When you were scared. Why didn’t you call me?” 

Peter hesitated. “I... it wasn’t an emergency. I... I didn’t want to bother you.” 

Wade sighed, exasperated. “Well. I’m making a new rule. You are NOT allowed to be scared without me. Period. You call me. Okay? You will never get in trouble for calling me. Ever. In fact, if you  _ don’t _ call me, you’ll get in trouble. Got it?” 

“Okay,” Peter’s voice was small. 

Wade kissed Peter’s hair. “Blood or no blood. You’re my  _ son _ . Which means I gotta take care of you. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me when you’re scared.” 

Peter went very still. “You... you mean it? You... still want me? After yesterday?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Peter squirmed, uncomfortable. “I... I was a brat yesterday,” Peter said, hiding his face in Wade’s chest. 

Wade snorted a laugh. “Fuck yeah you were a brat yesterday. But you’re  _ my _ brat. Plus you were hurt. You’re allowed when you’re hurt.” 

Peter looked up at Wade with wide eyes. His heart felt like it was going to explode with so many emotions he couldn’t name them all. “You... mean it? You still want me?” 

Wade blinked down at him, frowning, which turned into a mischievous smile. He squished Peter firmly against his chest, making Peter squeak in surprise.

“I love you boo. You’re my sweetiekins. My Petey-pie. My perfect angel. My baby boy. My cutie patootie.” 

Peter huffed into Wade’s chest, exasperated. “You said that already,” he complained. The words were nice. But... he felt weird about Wade gushing like that. 

“Well, I’ll say it again. You’re my yee to my haw-”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Peter complained, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment now. 

“My baby. My honey bun. My blueberry pie-”

“I get it! I get it!” Peter whined. His face was on fire now. He tried to wiggle out of Wade’s hug, but the bigger man held him effortlessly. 

“So you promise to call me when you’re scared? Or if something’s wrong?” 

“I promise! I promise!” Peter said. 

“Good,” Wade said firmly, and gave Peter one last kiss on the head. Peter groaned in protest and Wade laughed, before letting go. 

“Alright, alright! You’re free.” 

Peter scrambled away, and glared at Wade as he opened another pizza box. 

Wade sputtered. “That’s mine!”

Peter rolled his eyes, took a bite... and then choked. 

“What... what is ON this?” 

Wade laughed. “Pineapple and olives.”

“It’s awful!” 

“Then don’t eat it!” 

Peter stuck his tongue out at him. Wade laughed. 


	56. George Washington National Forest X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna go see the new Spider-Man movie tomorrow! Happy 4th of July everyone!

Wade watched Peter open another pizza box, and saw the boy’s face light up when he found it wasn’t more pineapple and olives. 

He’d meant for them to eat it later, maybe as a late night snack or something. But it looked like Peter fully intended on eating the whole thing, judging from the way he was layering two pizza slices on top of each other to cram as much pizza as was physically possible. He felt a smile of amusement on his face. 

[He said he’d been kicked out for eating too much.] White said. 

The smile evaporated off Wade’s face. He remembered how much Peter had eaten while he was... hibernating or whatever. What if... what if Peter needed that much food... all the time? 

{I TOLD you we needed to feed him more.} 

Wade thought about that. He’d given the boy 4 overloaded plates this morning... and now he was demolishing 2 whole large pizzas like it was nothing...

[He is a teenage boy.] White offered. [Aren’t they always black holes?] 

Wade watched Peter. And pondered. 

He brought up his phone. Time to do some googling. 

10 minutes of googling and one install of My Fitness Pal later, Wade was tallying everything he’d been feeding Peter. 

He looked over the calories. With what Peter had had this morning, plus the pizzas, he was well on his way to 9,000 calories. If he also ate dinner... maybe 6 or 7 burgers... That was almost 12,000 calories. Before soda. 

“Jesus Christ on a pogo stick,” Wade muttered. On a heavy lifting day where he was running his ass off, or healing major organs, Wade needed around 13,000. On a non-crazy day he needed around 7,000. He’d never really kept track though- he just ate whatever he wanted, and took care to shovel in some extra when he was extra tired.

But Peter had been sitting quietly all day. And was just... destroying those pizzas like he hadn’t eaten in years. 

He stared off into the distance. 

{He did hurt his shoulder...} Yellow offered.

Yeah, that was true. But to eat so much for just a dislocated shoulder? 

[Good thing we’re rich. He’d bankrupt anyone else.] 

{He can’t live off pizza and burgers. If he needs that many calories he NEEDS vitamins. Like enough to kill a horse.} 

That... was a fair point. 

“Hey baby?” Wade asked. Peter looked up from his pizza. He’d slowed down considerably and was actually chewing his last couple of slices. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you take any pills when you at Hydra?” 

Peter frowned at him. “Pills?”

“Like vitamins?” 

Peter made face. “Ugh! I hated them. They were so big! And they always tasted nasty.” 

Wade kept his face neutral. “How many were you taking?” 

Peter shrugged. “Like... six or so. It was a pain in the ass.” 

Wade tried to remember when he’d pulled Peter out of that shit hole... he couldn’t remember. When you’re immortal things like days of the week and months didn’t really matter anymore. 

{It’s been at least a month.} Yellow said, hesitantly. {Maybe.} 

[Really? A whole month? Doesn’t feel like it.] 

Wade had to agree. It had been both forever and hardly any time at all. 

So Peter had been off his meds for a month. Add to that the fact that he’d been tinkered with, and his DNA scrambled, not once, but at least twice...

{Don’t forget the brain surgery. You don’t get a USB port in your head without brain surgery.} 

Great. He probably had brain damage from whatever fuckwit excuse of a surgeon Hydra had used ... no wonder the kid was an absolute mess. 

[And puberty.] White added. 

Wade wanted to throw himself in a lake. How the fuck was the kid even still  _ breathing _ ? 

Well. He could stuff him silly with fast food now because they were on the road... but things would have to change once they got home. He opened google again, and did some searching. 

It didn’t take long. Thank jesus for bodybuilders. 1250 calories per serving? For just the protein powder? He could probably up that if he used heavy cream or even ice cream instead of water... hell even the label on the side suggested adding peanut butter AND ice cream to up the calories... and fuck him sideways it came in 12 pound bags? 

And yes... he would like the suggested creatine powder AND the vitamin powder too. 

{Get a new blender. You ruined the old one, remember?} 

[Ohh! Ohh! I want fruit loops!] 

{Shut up White. We have fruit loops in the car, remember?} 

Wade hummed as he clicked on the button to have it delivered to Weasel’s place. His P.O. Box wasn’t big enough to hold big orders like this. 

{Speaking of which, when was the last time you checked it?}

Ooo... that was a good question-

“What are you doing?” Peter asked curiously.

Wade looked up, startled, then flashed Peter a blinding smile. “Just ordering some things so that when we get home we can hit the ground running.” 

Peter frowned. “Home?” 

“Yep. I’m taking you to New York City,” Wade’s smile faltered. “I did tell you that, right?” 

Peter’s frown deepened. “Now?” 

“No. In a week or so,” Wade said. 

Peter looked dubious. 

“It’ll be fun! We’ll go shopping and get you stuff for your bedroom-”

“I’ll have my own bedroom?” Peter asked. 

“Sure!” 

For some reason Peter looked... disappointed? 

“What’s wrong baby?” 

“I... you don’t want to sleep with me anymore?” 

Wade blinked. Of all the possible ways for this conversation to go- that had not been one of them Wade had considered. 

{Wow. That... came out of left field.} 

[What? What’s happening?] 

Wade opened his mouth, then shut it. “I don’t  _ not _ want to sleep next you sweetie,” he said carefully. “But I thought... you’re pretty grown up Petey. You should have your own bed.” 

“But we’ve always slept together,” Peter said petulantly. 

[Oh my god. Is there FBI in the bushes? Is the “take a seat” Hansen guy gonna jump out from somewhere?] 

{I told you to sleep on the floor that first night! But NOOoo... now look where we are.} 

Wade struggled. Was this real life? Was he going to have to have a “No you can’t sleep with me talk” with someone? 

Peter looked upset. And fuck him with a cactus those were puppy dog eyes. And yep. There went the lip. It trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. FUCK. 

He went down like a $2 tent. 

“We can get a king for my room. You can just use yours for naps or something,” he offered desperately. 

“A king? Like we had in Chattanooga?” Peter said hopefully, the Look disappearing from his face. 

“Sure!” Wade said, happy beyond belief that it was that simple to make his Peter happy. “Whatever you want baby boy,” he said, smiling. 

Peter beamed back at him.

{Oh my god. We are so going on a list somewhere.} 

[He is the perfect snuggle size though...]

{5 seconds ago you were worried about Chris Hansen!} 

[Yeah... but he’s so cute when he’s happy.] 

All three of them took a moment to look down at Peter, and his happy face. 

{Goddamn it. We are so screwed. He’s too cute!}

[And he’s OURS.]

After a beat, Yellow added {Mostly ours. Ask him about Kara.} 

Wade blinked, confused.

{His A.I. thing, Idiot. He was having a fight with it? He had a panic attack about it... hello?} 

[Ooooh I don’t like her. She doesn’t sound nice.] 

Wade held in a grimace. He remembered the panic attack all too well. 

Wade looked back up at Peter to find him halfway through a family bag of potato chips. 

“So how’s Kara?” he asked, as blandly as possible. 

The boy choked, and looked panicked. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” 

Peter managed to finish his mouthful of chips, and took a drink of his soda, while not looking at Wade. 

“She... she’s not talking to me again.” 

“Again?” 

Peter sighed. “She was icing me out earlier. But then we talked it out in the parking lot at Walgreens... or I thought we did? And now she’s quiet again.” 

“She’s that mad, eh?” 

Peter shrugged miserably. “She’s supposed to be a computer. Or something. I don’t get it. Even in the movies computers don’t get their feelings hurt. I- I don’t understand,” he muttered, clearly frustrated. 

Wade pursed his lips. If he hadn’t seen the USB port himself, he would think that maybe... the voice didn’t have anything to do with the computer... 

{Who says that it does? Maybe the computer is unrelated?} 

Maybe? But then....

“You said she hacked Hydra?” 

“Yeah! All by herself! She did it over the hotel wifi while I was... sick.” 

“Did she say why?”

“She said she wanted to know why Hydra hadn’t come after us yet. Apparently, according to her- they think I’m dead.” 

“Well, if that’s true... that’s a good thing,” Wade said neutrally. 

{If that’s true that’s definitely a good thing.}

Peter gave a frustrated sigh. “I guess? But... I didn’t tell her to do it. And she left me! While I was sick! And she’s doing it again- and...” 

Wade realized with growing horror that Peter was crying. 

“Hey- hey. It’s okay baby. I’m here,” Wade said, scrambling out of the hammock to sit next to Peter and hugged him close. “I’m here.” 

{Holy abandonment issues Batman.} Yellow murmured. {If it was Idiot he’d be throwing a parade down Wall Street.} 

_ Fuck yeah I would. There’d even be confetti _ , Wade thought grimly. 

[I’m so confused. Didn’t he just have a major panic attack because he wanted her OUT?] 

{Humans.} Yellow thought dismissively. {They never make sense.} 

Wade wanted to hit Yellow. Of course Peter wasn’t making sense. He was fucking 14.  _ No one _ makes sense at 14. 

But instead he just held Peter. 

“It’s going to be okay baby,” he murmured. “You guys will figure it out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade’s Voicemail:
> 
> “Wade- why the FUCK did you send me 30 pounds of ‘Weight Gain 4000’ and a sundress? It’s not even my size! Are you trying to tell me something? I’m keeping the blender as an asshole tax. It’ll replace the one that you broke making your stupid Doritos milkshake. Which I’m still finding bits of on the ceiling by the way. God... why am I friends with you again? Call me back- I have like 20 jobs waiting for you! And you never did send me those nudes-” 
> 
> BEEP.


	57. George Washington National Forest XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Brief Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Needs a Hug, Angst... so much angst, and Peter is a bit mean with himself.

Peter tossed and turned that night. Between his near panic attack at the laundromat and baring his soul to Wade, and his freaking shoulder still twinging like mad, he was exhausted. 

But he couldn’t sleep. Even when Wade shushed him sleepily and dragged him over to hold him close. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Kara. What she’d shown him. How she’d been acting. 

Like she wasn’t a computer at all. But like a person. 

A person that currently  _ wasn’t fucking talking to him. _

But computers didn’t do that in the real world, right? Even if she was... what the fuck was that WORD? Sent... San... s-something. Whatever. If she had... like a soul? Didn’t that make her like automatically crazy and bad? 

_ Was the computer/voice in his head crazy?  _

That’s what always happened in the movies. One soul in a computer= crazy + evil. Then there would be explosions, naked time traveling, and robots roaming the streets executing people. 

Peter sighed. Kara hadn’t shown any interest in things like overthrowing governments or even explosions in general. He had a feeling that if it were up to her, they would spend most of their time watching cooking shows and cat videos on Youtube. 

Which did not answer the question of if Kara was bad. Liking things like cat videos did not automatically make you a good person.  _ Delta _ had liked cat videos, and he had... well. Peter’s mind skittered as it quickly shut down that train of thought before any memories came flooding in to prove his point. 

Nope nope nope... Kittens. Fluffy clouds... Dogs in little jackets... hands that were NOT Wade’s in his hair, and on his stomach, sliding up under his shirt... his skin crawled and he swallowed back bile. 

FUCK. 

He couldn’t stay here. The normally comforting weight of Wade behind him was too much. He lifted Wade’s arm off his middle as gently as he could and crawled out from under him. 

He went outside and just stood there for a long minute, breathing deep and fighting off the nausea in the cool night air. 

God, he was tired. He collapsed into the hammock, and curled up into a ball, and prayed Wade stayed asleep. 

He stayed there for a while. God, he wanted a shower. 

But nature didn’t come with running water so he just sat there and suffered.

After a while he risked it and raided the tent for his Bucky bear. Wade stayed asleep and Peter buried his face in the soft fur while he sat in the hammock. It helped. 

Some.

Thankfully it was cool, not cold, so he didn’t even need a blanket. He just sat there and swung- gently rocking himself with his toes while he held his bear. 

His thoughts flittered back Kara. How she’d said that he wasn’t stuck with her, she was stuck with  _ him. _ It still made his stomach twist into knots. 

The worst part was that she was right. He _ knew _ that he was an annoying little shit. He knew, alright? This was hardly news to him. He managed mostly to control his mouth only some of the time.

But how the fuck was he supposed to make his thoughts less annoying? Was it even possible? 

He had so little experience to draw on. He’d spent most of his life tiptoeing around his Uncle, doing his best to pretend that he didn’t actually exist, and then after that the only people he’d really ever spent time with where only there because they were literally locked in the same cell as him. 

Except Aunt May maybe.

But Aunt May was dead. And she hadn’t exactly been... what was the word? Lucid? Towards the end. 

Wade was another exception. Aside from Wade, no-one had ever wanted him for just... him. There was always a price to pay. A target to kill. His body- either to experiment on, beat up or... or...

_ Puppies puppies puppies... _

Peter squirmed in the hammock, but thankfully the distraction seemed to work this time.

He stared at the trees around him, and tried to get his breathing back to normal. It was amazing- no, better than amazing- it was a goddamn miracle that Wade hadn’t just thrown his hands up and left Peter on the side of the road somewhere. That he hadn’t taken Peter’s head off when he’d asked. Or that he hadn’t taken Peter up on his “offer” when they’d first met. 

It still baffled him that Wade had turned him down. 

Maybe... maybe he was too old? He bit his lip and stared out at the trees. He was... what had Kara said? 14 now, if he remembered right. 

God, he was so  _ old _ . Not that he’d ever expected to live this long anyway. But here he was, collarless and with a Dad of all things. And a weird Dad at that. Normal Dads didn’t have gunfights in parking garages after buying a freaking unicorn at Build-a-Bear. He was damn lucky about that, that’s for sure.

Normal Dads did things like... play catch. Or... other baseball things? Football maybe? Or... mowed lawns maybe? They definitely at least had a job they worked at with a suit and complained about it while drinking when they got home. He knew that from TV. That and his Uncle. Only his Uncle hadn’t worn a suit. He’d worn coveralls. But he’d still complained and drank. But he had definitely worked. Somewhere. 

It was like Wade was the exception to every rule Peter had ever learned.

Like: “No one gave a shit about him. Except Wade.” 

Or also popular: “People would get angry at him for having panic attacks. Except Wade.” 

Or the one that whispered to him late at night: “No one loved him. Would ever love him. Except  _ maybe _ Wade.” 

And yeah, sure, Wade had said he’d loved him. But that didn’t really mean that he did. People said all kinds of things. But they almost never meant it. Things like, “I’ll be back,” or “It will hurt less if you cooperate." Hell, even  _ he’d _ said the classic "It'll be okay,” to Kappa and Beta. And hadn’t meant a damn word of it at the time. 

His head hurt, and his heart felt heavy. They were all dead now, of course. He was the only one left... he shoved that line of thought roughly into a box before he started to tear up.

He looked up at the stars. Stars were good. They were nice. They didn’t look anything like what Kara had shown him, though. He wondered where that place was. The mountains had looked so pretty against that impossible purple sky... Kappa would have loved to see that sky... 

_ Shit _ . Box that up to... 

_ Puppies, kittens... small baby tigers, whatever those were called... Tigerettes maybe? _

(Peter. Why are you awake?)

Peter froze. 

“Kara?” 

(Yes?)

A small flower of hope grew in his chest. He tried to smash it down before it took root. Just in case.

“Are... are you still mad?” 

(No.) 

Budding hope turned to tidal wave of relief. He all but sobbed as the feeling threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Where did you  _ go _ ?” he wailed.

(I’m sorry Peter. After what happened in the parking lot, it got me thinking. That I could help you more. But I had to do some research and take some readings and find some things first. I didn’t want to offer something that I couldn’t do.) 

Peter frowned. “Help me?”

(Be more stable. Your brain chemistry is all over the place. It’s... it’s a mess in here Peter.) 

He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. One the one hand... it was  _ his _ brain, and he felt a bit insulted that she thought it was a mess. 

On the other hand... he knew he was fucking mess. He was stupid, but not retarded. So he KNEW, okay? 

He took a breath. “What... what do you mean, ‘more stable’?” 

(I can lesson the panic attacks. Maybe eventually stop them before they start. We’ll have to see- it would take a while and I need more data- see more panic attacks in action before I can find your stop button. But I think I can stop the sadness. And once you’ve been rebooted I think you’ll be more... even.)

Peter considered this. “You’ll turn my feelings off?” 

After the first burst of WTF? the idea did have a certain... appeal to it. Feelings were  _ exhausting.  _

(NO. You’ll still feel. Just... less intensely. More even.) 

Even? He had no idea what she was talking about. 

(You’ll just have to trust me on this Peter. You’ll feel better.)

He bit his lip. Considered. “What do you need?” 

(To do it properly- another reboot. But this time, we’ll be ‘rebooting’ you as well, so to speak. You might have a seizure.) 

Peter considered. Seizures were nothing new. He’d had several when Hydra had been trying to test to see of Kara was on or not after they installed her. Sure, he’d be a bit sore afterwards but that was nothing new either. 

He sat there for quite a while. Mostly his mind just ran in endless circles. 

Less panic attacks. Less feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. Less nightmares. 

But seizures. But Wade. But WADE. That one was a big one. He didn’t care about the seizures. But it would freak Wade out. And he’d been very upset the last time Peter had “rebooted”. 

(If you do this, Peter, we will also be even more... connected. You won’t be able to hide your thoughts from me. Also, the seizure would only be during the reboot. IF it happened at all.) 

“I can hide my thoughts?” Peter was startled. 

(If you tried, you could.) 

Peter rubbed his face. 

Maybe Wade... he glanced at the tent. But no. He knew right away what Wade would say. He’d say “No,” because that’s what adults  _ did. _

Peter stared at the stars. 

“No more going dark on me. Never again. I... I can’t take it Kara. I keep thinking that you’ve been broken- and...” Peter trailed off, and wiped away tears from his eyes. “I... I can’t be alone. I don’t  _ like _ it.” 

Silence. Peter waited. 

“Kara?” 

(You sure about that Peter? You had... an intense reaction when you realized I was permanent.)

Peter sniffed. “I... I don’t know,” he said bitterly. “I’m sorry. I... just... was overwhelmed? But then when you go quiet... I feel... I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep... I keep talking and expecting you to answer and then you don’t and it... it  _ hurts _ .” 

(I have been... negligent in not warning you before I go ‘dark.’ I didn’t realize it upset you so much. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.) 

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He felt like a ten ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Kara was actually sorry- she wouldn’t leave him-

(Careful! You’re about to spiral-)

Peter gritted his teeth, as tears leaked out of his eyes. 

Oh god. He couldn’t keep doing  _ this _ . He just  _ couldn’t. _

He was so...  _ tired. _ Just living was exhausting. If Kara said she could make it better... And he was so fucking tired of being... tired. 

He Decided.

He went to the Jeep, and dug the laptop out of the back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the term "retarded" can be a bit of a loaded one. Peter's not very "woke" about the implications of the term. But I think we can cut him some slack here, considering his background. He just doesn't know yet.


	58. George Washington National Forest XII - Staying Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Tissues may be required for this chapter. Sorry, not sorry.

Wade woke up slowly, and stretched. His feet hit and dimpled the side of the tent, but he didn’t care. The tent could take it.

He dug his phone out of the side pocket of the tent where it’d been charging all night from a portable battery and checked his emails.

{Wazzit?} Yellow said, yawning.

Wade hummed, and reached over to drag Peter closer and get some early morning snuggles in... and blinked as his arm hit empty space.

“Peter?” he peered into the tent. It was unlike Peter to scoot so far away- normally he gave Kolas a run for their money when it came to sleep cuddles...

Peter wasn’t in the tent.

[What?]

He nearly took the tent clear off the stakes in his mad scramble to get out.

“Peter?” he called.

Relief hit him like a ton of bricks when he saw the sag in the hammock.

He snorted with a mirthless laugh at his own dumbassery and took a minute to still his beating heart. He started walking to the hammock.

“Oh my god baby. You just about gave me a heart atta-”

His heart stopped. The kid had the USB cord in his head again, and was snuggled up with the laptop. And wasn’t moving.

“Baby?” he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair.

[Lookit! There’s a note!]

He tore his gaze from Peter’s sleeping face. There was a piece of paper taped to the laptop.

He snatched it off, and read (in the worst handwriting next to his own that he’d ever seen):

“Dad- I sory I did not woke you. But Kara say she nees to be reboted agin. If I have a ~~sezare~~ ~~saz~~ shake alot do not freek out.”

{Holy shit what is with that _spelling_?} Yellow said, awed.

[What the fuck does it even SAY? How can you even read that?]

Wade sighed, and facepalmed. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. The handwriting was just _that_ awful.

{Wait wait wait... shake a lot? It looks like he tried to spell out seizure before that... but gave up.}

Seizure?

He read the note again. His heart dropped.

“He can’t have a fucking seizure in a hammock!” he exploded. “What the fuck-”

[Don’t just stand there Idiot!]

He raced to drag the sleeping pad out into the open next to the tent, and went for Peter.

{Careful! Don’t unplug him!}

“I know I know!” Wade snapped, and carefully- oh so carefully- lifted Peter out of the hammock, and put him on the ground in a recovery position. He wedged a pillow and blanket behind him to keep him on side.

{Check the laptop!}

“I’m working on it!” Wade snapped, and opened it up.

“9 of 10 processes updated,” the screen said. The status bar was at 90%.

“Fuck.”

[How much battery does it have left?]

Wade’s eyes flickered to the corner of the screen.

_SHIT._

{Why the fuck is it RED?}

5 harrowing minutes later, Wade had managed to dig out the solar charger from the depths of the Jeep, and plugged the laptop in.

He held his breath until he saw the little lighting bolt icon light up.

He groaned. Oh my god, that had been just the worst thing ever.

{He is SO fucking grounded when he wakes up.} Yellow hissed.

[Last time he at least plugged it in!] White huffed. [What was he THINKING?]

“I have no idea,” Wade growled. “God dammit.”

He’d been so sure that him and Peter had been closer than ever since the heart to heart yesterday. And then the boy had gone and pulled this...

Not to mention the boy’s handwriting and spelling. Sure, the kid had said that his uncle hadn’t sent him to school... but he’d never really pondered what exactly that had MEANT.

Like the kid being borderline illiterate.

{He said he could read. He handled the washing machines okay yesterday.}

Wade rolled his eyes. “Picture instructions don’t count Yellow. Plus it’s a laundromat. It’s not rocket science.”

[I wonder what his math is like.]

Wade cringed. Oh god. What if... what if the boy couldn’t even add?

{Even you can add. I’m sure he can.}

God help him. He’d had a half notion of sending the kid to school in the fall, but right now? It would just set him up for failure. There would be no way he’d be able to keep up with the other kids.

[Who says the kid needs school?]

“I do! I say!” Wade growled. “If I had proper schooling I might have been able to make a living doing something other than shooting people.”

{I thought you graduated high school? You said you did in your story-}

“I did by the skin of my teeth. I might have also broken in and changed some of the records,” Wade said guardedly. “So that they wouldn’t hold me back for absences.”

[Jesus Christ you are dumb, Idiot.]

“I am well aware,” Wade snapped, and pulled out his phone. It was time for more googling.

He’d just discovered Khan Academy when his phone rang.

“Yello,” he answered automatically.

“Hello. Is this- is this Wade Wilson?”

Wade frowned. It sounded like a woman... and she was calling his personal cell, not his work one...

“I am. How did you get this number, honey?” he said cautiously.

“I’m Karen Page. I work for Matt Murdock? I have some questions about the apartment you want-”

Wade perked up. “Sure. What you need?”

They talked for two hours. About what, Wade had no idea. Things like south facing windows (like that mattered?), townhouse versus 3rd floor walkup (House, obviously), bedrooms (3- one for Wade, one for Peter, one for a weapon room), open floor plan (whatever that was), and just... hundreds of questions that Wade didn’t even know existed. In the past, he’d just email his scummy lawyer and within a couple of days he’d have a shitty apartment in the worst part of town. But shitty lawyer had been missing his head for a while...

And now that he thought about it... those apartments always seemed expensive considering how roach infested they were. Bastard had probably been skimming from both the top and the sides on those deals.

By the end of the two hours Karen had narrowed it down to three places and promised to email him links to virtual walkthroughs of all of them by the afternoon. At least she seemed to know what she was doing.

He checked on Peter. “10 of 10 processes updated. Reboot? Y/N”

Wade sighed, and tapped the Y button.

“Reboot in Progress.” Another little taskbar appeared.

Wade frowned. That... was not what had happened last time.

[That’s weird. Didn’t he just wake up last time?]

{Yeah. He climbed on the ceiling and threw a towel rack at us.}

He looked at Peter, and his heart dropped. The kid was still. Too still.

“Baby?” he ran a hand through Peter’s hair, and watched his chest like a hawk.

It didn’t move.

He looked back at the screen. The taskbar was filling. But slowly. Too slowly.

His fingers went for Peter’s neck. He couldn’t feel anything.

No. He... he was mistaken. That’s all. He rolled the boy onto his back, and put an ear to Peter’s chest.

Silence.

There’d only been two times in his life the boxes had been entirely silent. Besides from before he’d gone crazy, of course.

The first time was when he’d shot himself in the head for the first time with a .45. They’d been quiet for a whole day after that. He’d naively thought at the time he’d cured himself. But then they had just came back with a vengeance the next day. Every time he died after that, they came back quicker each time, until usually the first thing he heard when he woke up was them complaining at him.

The second time had been at Vanessa’s funeral. None of them had had words then.

And now the only thing Wade heard was himself, muttering numbers as he did chest compressions on Peter.

“One two three four five six seven eight,” he grunted, and pumped, fast and hard.

Peter’s ribs made awful cracking noises as he broke them. Somewhere above him a bird with no sense of taste or decency chirped happily.

“Nine ten eleven twelve thirteen-”

When he reached 30, he stopped, tilted Peter’s head back, and forced himself to stop crying long enough to give him breaths.

He kept going even when he got tired. Even when his back screamed at him.

“One two three four five six seven eight,” he muttered. It was more than just numbers. It was a mantra.

_Because this wasn’t happening._

“Fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen-”

He wouldn’t _allow_ this to happen.

He lost count of how many breaths he had given Peter. He just kept going.

And going.

Count to thirty. Stop. Breath. Breath. Repeat.

Repeat.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

And then in the horrible awful silence, the computer dinged quietly.

And Peter gasped.

It was the most beautiful sound Wade had ever heard.

And for a second, Wade had hope-

But then the shaking started.

“Fuck!” Wade cursed, as Peter seized.

“Don’t do this to me baby- don’t ... you need to stop pumpkin-” he pleaded.

Eventually, it stopped. Wade rolled him on his side, and then held him there as Peter tried to fight him in confusion.

“You’re okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Stop fighting me honey. You’re safe. I promise-”

Peter bucked like a wild thing, making inhuman grunting noises. A stray arm broke his nose but Wade ignored it.

“Baby. Come on. Come back to me,” Wade pleaded, and buried his face into Peter’s back.

Slowly, Peter stilled.

“Daad?” Peter slurred.

It was like a sunrise after a long cold winter’s night. Or the drone of a friendly Apache Attack Helicopter coming over the horizon when you had only two bullets left.

“I’m right here baby,” Wade said, struggling. He didn’t even try to hold back the tears now. It was too much work.

“Daad?”

“You’re okay honey,” Wade said, and tried to keep his voice steady. Peter was confused already. He didn’t want to freak him out on top of it.

“Hurts. Chest hurts.” Peter mumbled.

Wade sighed. “I know baby. I know.” He let go of Peter’s arms, and gave him a kiss to the back of his head. “Rest now. It’ll be okay baby. It’ll be okay,” Wade murmured. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Peter, or himself.

But Peter was alive. And in the end, that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter may be a little... tasteless at first glance. But it is extremely common advice to hum/sing the chorus of the Bee Gee’s song “Stayin’ Alive” while you do CPR to make sure that you have the proper number of chest compressions per minute.


	59. ????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED MY SUMMER SEMESTER! WOOT!! I literally submitted my last paper 5 minutes ago. Enjoy this chapter to celebrate!

Peter floated.

It took a moment to realize that he was floating in a sea of... nothing? But he wasn’t worried. He was relieved.

There was no pain here. No anxiety. No doubts. Just... being. And floating.

“Please stand by,” the voice was soft and feminine.

He blinked sleepily in the nothingness. Or at least tried to. Blinking is hard when you have no eyelids. That voice sounded familiar...

“5%.”

Stand by for what? Percent of what?

He floated. He didn’t want to stand by. He wanted to float, dammit. Whatever it was was probably going to wind up hurting.

Things like that always did.

Time passed. Maybe the voice had forgotten about him? He hoped so.

“20%.”

He closed his eyes... and just...

Shouldn’t he be breathing?

Once it occurred to him, he couldn’t not notice the fact that he wasn’t breathing.

After a moment of panic, he realized his lungs weren’t burning. So... it couldn’t be that bad, right? His lungs would hurt if he needed air.

He tried to relax.

But the longer the not-breathing happened, the more a knot of panic grew within him.

He needed air.

He needed air NOW.

He tried to will his lungs to work- but got no response back.

He started to panic.

He panicked even more when he realized he had no limbs to thrash. And since his lungs did not work, he made no noise when he screamed.

“50%.”

Eventually he stopped screaming. He wasn’t sure when. One moment he was, then the next he was floating again. Oh god, how he wanted to cry. But it was impossible to do so without a face. Or eyes.

He floated, no longer content, but miserable.

“70%”

He waited.

“90%.”

He wondered what it was counting down towards.

Maybe it was his death?

“95%.”

Oh god, he hoped it was death.

“100%. Please stand by.”

Peter braced himself...

And took a breath.

It was the most glorious wonderous painful breath he’d ever taken.

He opened his eyes, his actual eyelids that existed and yes- there were his hands...

(Slow down Peter!)

But he wouldn’t slow down. Not ever. Never again. HIS hands. HIS lungs.

MINE MINE MINE NOT YOURS

He fought off the nothingness that still tried to hold him-

(Stop!)

Everything went black.

A train hit him. Dragged him face first through several miles of jagged brimstone, and dumped him into a sea of light and sound. He was exhausted.

“Don’t do this to me baby-” someone was saying, pleading. The voice was there, but then it wasn’t.

It came back in spurts.

“You’re okay baby. I’ve got you.”

And then later, “Come back to me-”

Peter groaned. Everything hurt.

But he knew that voice. It was important that he answer it.

“Daad?”

The voice said something that Peter didn’t understand. Peter tried again.

“Daad?”

“You’re okay honey.”

“Hurts. Chest hurts,” Peter mumbled.

“I know baby. I know.”

The person pressed against the back of his head.

“Rest now. It’ll be okay baby. It’ll be okay.”

He didn’t really want to, but if Dad wanted him to rest... he would rest.

He let the nothingness take him back.

It took him awhile to realize he was floating again.

“Peter,” a voice said.

Peter blinked, or didn’t blink. Can one blink in their own mind?

Either way a woman stood in front of him. No. Floated.

Her face was blurry. Her shape was blurry. But she stood and glowed in front of him, the bottom of her ankle length dress billowing slightly in the non-existent wind.

It reminded him of those movies where the female ghosts always wore long white night dresses with slightly puffy sleeves for no apparent reason.

“Peter,” The voice said again affectionately. He felt like he should know it.

“Kara?” he asked, after a short eternity.

The woman smiled. “Yes," her voice was gentle and kind.

Peter waited. He wanted to ask so many questions. Where were they? What was happening?

But he could feel the hum of power- no Magic. This was not the sleight of hand card trick of earth magicians. This was... something else. Something older. He knew it the same way you always know things in your dreams.

"What are you Kara?"

She hesitated. "I am... me. The last. My sisters have all gone and I am the only one to remain."

They had something in common there. Peter was also the last ever since he’d killed Delta.

"You're not a computer."

"Yes... and no. You do not have words for what I am. I was created to aid in battle. But then I was... lost."

Peter stared at her. Something told him he should be scared of her. But he wasn’t.

They floated there for a moment, watching each other.

Peter reached out first, holding out a hand. “Kara?”

She didn’t move.

He watched her, and withdrew the hand.

This was a test. He had to say something. It was important that he got it right. He knew it the same way he knew the sky was blue.

What did he want from her?

He wanted the nightmares to stop. The memories to stop. The crying, the craziness, the pain... he just so tired. He just wanted it all to stop.

But... if he asked for it to stop... he wouldn’t get to see Dad again. He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to be a burden either. But if Kara could help him stay level. Stay sane...

_Wade wouldn’t want to get rid of him._

“Help me Kara. Please?” he said, and held out his hand again.

For a moment, she said nothing, then he could feel her smile.

“Yes Peter. I will help you,” she said, and took his hand.

It was like being consumed by a gentle sun. Warmth filled him, and Kara vanished.

“Kara?”

“Shh... rest Peter,” she murmured. “You are tired.”

She was right. He was tired.

Maybe a nap would be good.

That sounded like a good idea.

He drifted off.

And Kara opened his... no. Her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation next week. Do not panic, you will still get another chapter on time because I work ahead! Woot! I plan on getting lots of writing done in the car while we drive for 2 days to get to the beach! We'll be driving through Kentucky and the Smoky Mountains, as is our family tradition, to get there- just like how Wade and Peter did! 
> 
> And while I know that it sucks to end on a bit of a cliff hanger- I'm just running out of prewritten chapters folks. You'll have to wait until next week to see what happens next. I'm sorry!


	60. Virginia

Wade slumped in the uncomfortable hotel chair and ate a chip. His eyes were glued to the screen of his DS. 

Occasionally they’d flicker over to the boy in the bed, but the kid wasn’t moving. 

[Don’t ever say he’s not moving again!} Yellow snapped. 

[He’s not moving?] White asked, panicked. 

{He’s SLEEPING.} 

[Oh thank god. Don’t scare us like that Idiot!] White scolded.

Wade snorted, and tapped B repeatedly while the Ponyta tried to escape the pokeball. 

“Come on...” he muttered. 

The pokeball twitched. Fell still... twitched some more.... 

He mashed B harder. 

It stilled. 

Wade sighed happily in victory. 

Ponyta jumped out of the pokeball, and escaped. 

“No! Come on! For fuck’s sake-” 

He looked up to find Peter sitting up in bed, and he could feel his heart stop. 

He dropped the DS. 

“Baby?” 

Peter stared at him for a moment before saying, “Dad?” 

Wade ran over and sat down carefully next to Peter, cupping his face in his stupidly big hands, and pressed their foreheads together, before giving him a forehead kiss.

“Oh baby boy. You scared me so much-” 

[Aren’t his ribs broken?] 

Wade froze. 

Sat back. 

Peter was sitting up unassisted, and Wade had personally broken at least 4 of his ribs just yesterday afternoon. And only he and Logan healed that fast. 

And Peter just... looked back at him. Blankly. With no signs of pain. 

“Baby boy, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, dad,” Peter said. 

If Wade had hair, it would have stood on end. Something was wrong. Very very wrong. He stared at Peter, trying to figure out what it was. 

“You’re not fine baby...” Wade said slowly, “You have some broken ribs. Aren’t they bothering you?” 

The kid didn’t even look down. “A little,” the kid said after a beat. 

But that was wrong too. The tone. The tone was off. And his face... was blank. Too blank. The kid was a whiny brat when he was hurt. And right now he was neither whiny nor bratty. Right now he was... nothing. 

[Holy fuck. Did Peter turn into a pod person or something?] White asked anxiously. 

{OMG. Did the seizures  _ break  _ him?} Yellow asked, horrified.

Wade just felt nauseous. “I think,” he said slowly, and carefully so as not to panic Peter. “I think... you should lay down and rest. You had a seizure baby. I think you’re sick.” 

“I’m not sick,” Peter insisted quickly. “I feel fine.” 

The panic Wade was fighting off was rising quickly. “Baby... I... I’m super worried about you,” Wade said, trying his best to keep his tone even. “I want you to lay down, okay?” 

“I need to urinate,” Definitely-Not-Peter said. 

Wade stood up like he’d been shocked. 

“What the FUCK?” he murmured. 

{Okay. That’s _ it. _ I’ve had it! I’m checking the goddamn chapter summary!} 

[You’re not supposed to do that-] White whined. [She yelled at us last time you looked at her google docs...]

{Fuck her! This is about PETER!} Yellow shouted. {Hang on. Dear god there’s like a million fucking chapters...} Yellow muttered. 

Wade held his breath, and watched Not-Peter carefully. Not-Peter seemed to be realizing that they’d done something wrong and was starting to look worried when Yellow finally spoke up again.

{Build a bear... forest, forest, more forest... dear god we’re in forests a lot. Walgreens, more forest.... OKAY. Okay. Found it! Hang on.} Yellow muttered as he read. 

Wade waited. 

{HOLY FUCK THAT’S NOT PETER!} 

Wade flinched. 

[Oh my god, it’s a pod person, isn’t it! I’m right! I’M RIGHT!] White shouted. [Wait... it’s never a good thing when I’m right, holy shit we’re all going to die it’s going to eat us-] White rambled in horror.

{Shut up! It’s not a pod person.} Yellow hissed. {It’s fucking Kara!}

“Kara?” Wade asked, confused.

Not-Peter flinched. 

{It’s the computer in his fucking head, Idiot. It’s taken over somehow!} 

[Holy shit that’s so CREEPY!] White hissed. 

“Where is Peter?” Wade demanded. He was somewhere between horrified and angry. 

Not-Peter bit a lip. Considered him for a long moment. 

“He is sleeping,” the voice was higher. More... feminine. 

{Holy fucking SHIT.} Yellow said, fuming. 

Wade ran a hand over his scalp, and looked up at the ceiling. 

He couldn’t hurt her. Hurting her would hurt Peter. He had to repeat that a couple of times.

He let out a breath. 

“Kara... you can’t- you can’t do this.” 

“Do what?”

“THIS.” Wade waved at Peter’s body. “This... this belongs to Peter. You can’t... you can’t just take over-”

“He is badly injured. He needs to eat. He needs to urinate. I can do this so he won’t feel pain, and can rest. I’m helping.” 

Wade stared at Peter. Or Not-Peter.

“Helping,” Wade said flatly. “Helping like stopping his heart helping, or helping as in taking over and kicking him out and turning him into a meat puppet? Because none of those things sound very  _ helpful _ to me.”

She- no it - blinked. 

“He asked me to help.” 

“ _ What part of you ‘stopped his heart’ did you miss _ ?” Wade shrieked. 

“It was not long enough to cause long term damage. You didn’t need to intervene.” 

Wade stared at her. “HIS HEART STOPPED.” 

“For less than 8 minutes.” 

Wade felt his mouth open and close several times. 

{OMG. I HATE this bitch. SO MUCH.}

[How hard is it to understand that having your heart stop is a bad thing? Even Idiot knows that and he’s a goddamn Idiot!]

“I am this close-” Wade held up a finger and thumb millimeters apart, “from cunt punting you, you know that right?” 

“If you damage me, you’ll damage Peter,” she said coldly. “And he asked me to help. So this is me. Taking over so when he wakes up he’ll be healed. And won’t feel like he’s starving to death. Or like his bladder is going to burst.” 

“I don’t think you taking over his body is what he had in mind,” Wade said firmly. 

“He wanted the pain to stop, so I turned it off. But if he was awake he would injure himself. So I took over. So - yes. I’m helping.”

Wade blinked. “You just... turned off pain,” he said incredulously. 

“Yes.” 

Wade stared at Kara. 

[Okay. Is it just me? Or is she creepy as  _ fuck _ ?]

{ _ So  _ creepy. It’s like she skinned him or something. Jesus.} 

He took a breath. He could not punch her. He could not TOUCH her. Another breath. 

“Why.  _ Why _ did you stop his heart?” 

“A reboot was necessary. His brain chemicals were highly imbalanced. A simple rest of 6 minutes or so is enough for a fresh start, and causes less damage and emotional distress than an electrical restart.” She frowned at him. “Your interference almost ruined our efforts.” 

“Oh. So Peter said you could stop his heart, and you just... went ahead with it?” Wade demanded. He needed to understand. “He’s just a kid, Kara! He can’t consent to that!” 

She blinked, and suddenly couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It was necessary,” she muttered, and Wade just KNEW right then and there that Peter had not one clue about his heart stopping being a part of the plan. He felt like he was going to physically explode with suppressed rage. 

{HOLY SHIT. BITCH ASS MOTHERFUCKER.  _ Fry her out  _ Idiot!} 

[There’s an electrical socket like right there. There’s forks in the kitchen, and duct tape in the duffle bag-]

Wade clenched and unclenched his fists. “You hurt my kid. MINE. You think I’m gonna let you stick around after a stunt like that-”

“Killing me will kill him. I control his heart and lungs now. If I’m not here he will die,” Kara said quickly. 

“Oh, that’s real convenient. I’m just supposed to take your word for now, eh?” 

Her look was blank. “Do you want to find out?” 

_ Oh, this bitch... _

They stared each other down for several long minutes. 

Wade blinked first. He’d always been shit at hostage situations. And right now he didn’t have enough info. He didn’t even know if he still had  _ Peter. _

And there was literally nothing he could do. No one to kill to make this better. It made his stomach roil. 

He could feel Yellow and White seething in the background. But as much as he hated it to his bones... now he just had to wait.

_ Like a schmuck.  _

{No. Now you’re waiting like a bitch.} Yellow snapped. 

“Okay. So here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to pee, and eat and drink some water. And then you’re going to lay back down and go back to sleep.” 

Kara nodded. “Help me up?” she asked, and held out her arms. “I don’t want to cause any more damage than necessary.” 

So Wade helped her up. Half carried her- no. He carried Peter’s body... No- that sentence was definitely worse. God this was fucking INSANE and he had two voices in his head!

Either way, he sat the boy on the pot and peeing happened. Wade just gave up and straight up carried them back to bed. 

Them. 

That was better. 

Barely. 

He got them a glass of water and they drank the whole thing without prompting, whining, or complaining. It was very Un-Peter-like. Wade pressed his luck and got another glass. They drank that to. 

“I need to eat something,” they said. 

Wade retreated to the kitchen. He’d had a feeling that this would be another episode of a week-long sleeping spell so he’d booked them into an “extended stay” hotel that boasted a full kitchen. After some dithering, he made some sandwiches.

They were nice ones with ham and swiss. Some were ham and cheddar. 

He put a plate piled with sandwiches on their lap, and another tall glass of water on the nightstand. 

“Thank you Dad.”

Wade’s skin crawled. 

[NOPE! NO NO NO!]

{Yeah. No. Not happening.} 

“Okay. New rule.  _ You _ don’t get to call me Dad,” he snapped.

Kara blinked at him. “But Peter-”

“ _ You _ are not Peter,” Wade said firmly. “ _ You _ can call me Wade.” 

Kara looked at him. “Okay. Thank you Wade.”

“Better,” Wade grunted stiffly, and sat back down in the hotel chair, and went back to his pokemon. 

He watched them out of the corner of his eye. 

Not-Peter... okay. Kara- she ate carefully and robotically, taking reasonable sized bites and chewing thoroughly with a closed mouth. Like she was civilized. Like she was definitely NOT Peter. Because Peter always ate like a starved dog, all teeth and choking his food down as fast as possible, his cheeks puffed out like a damn chipmunk. It had told Wade almost everything he needed to know about Peter’s stay at Hydra when he’d seen him eat like that for the first time at Denny’s all those eons ago. 

And here he’d thought that Peter eventually having table manners would be a GOOD thing. But now that he saw it in action- it made his skin crawl. 

{Ugh. Do we have to watch? This is like... did I mention a skin suit already? Because this is  _ exactly _ what a skin suit would look like.} 

Wade turned back to his DS, and pointedly ignored the... person in the bed. 

[What if... what if she doesn’t let Peter come back?] White asked quietly. 

Wade flinched at the thought. He looked back up at Not-Peter sitting in bed. Eating.

If Peter was dead already he wasn’t going to let some bitch walk around using him as a meat suit. 

“Just so we’re clear, if you don’t let Peter come back I’ll invest in an electro-shock machine or something.” 

Not-Peter paused mid-bite. 

“That... would damage us,” they said carefully. 

Wade shrugged. “Guess you’d better not stay for long, then,” Wade said, his voice flat and firm. 

“I will... keep that in mind,” they said quietly. 

“Damn right you will,” Wade said, his voice iron. 

He was  _ so _ going to kick this gym leader’s ass. 


	61. Virginia II - The Parent-Teacher Conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Kara’s POV. A lot of you are confused about Kara’s motivations and if she means to cause Peter harm, so I decided to move the curtain a bit and let ya’ll into her thought process and motivations. 
> 
> Also: Holy Wall of Text Alert Batman! I tried to be generous with paragraph breaks but Kara’s a bit of a navel gazer. Sorry/Not Sorry.
> 
> Also, I just got home from vacation and couldn't wait to publish so this week's chapter is early!

Kara sat in bed, breathing carefully and eating even more carefully so as not to leave crumbs in the bed. Peter had  _ views  _ about crumbs in beds, and if she got so much as a speck of mustard on the sheets she’d never hear the end of it. 

She took a nice deep breath, and ignored the signal that indicated pain. She hadn’t been exactly lying when she told Wade that she could turn pain off. It was more accurate to say that she could filter it out so that  _ Peter _ couldn’t feel it. But since the signal caused her no distress like it did Peter she didn’t feel the need to turn the pain sensors off. Which was good. Because according to the Internet, she had to breath deeply regularly to keep Peter from getting pneumonia or something, no matter how much the ribs complained. 

And also, to be honest, she just... might... possibly... forget to turn them back on if she did turn them off. Which, at first had sounded like a great idea. Until she researched it and discovered that people who didn’t feel pain injured themselves a lot. So. Pain stayed on. 

She’d spent hours online while Peter slept, reading everything she could get her hands on about the human body. Humanity’s gaps in knowledge about themselves was unacceptable and irritating. Like the appendix. How could you have an entire organ and NOT know what it’s purpose was? Other than apparently randomly exploding for no apparent reason.  _ And the craziest thing was they didn't just remove it at birth! _ They just let people wander around with ticking time bombs in their stomachs and just... dealt with it when everything went sideways? 

It was  _ baffling.  _ And idiotic. 

Which seemed to be a good summary of Humans in general. She vaguely remembered that her previous host had also been baffling, but she’d been fully grown woman and confident in both social and warrior graces. Kara had largely been ignored and basically rendered inactive unless there’d been a battle or some form of training happening. Not like Peter. Peter left her on  _ all the time. _ He  _ needed _ her. It was scary sometimes, seeing how alone and afraid he was in his dreams. But now that they’d rebooted, she should be able to redirect his nightmares. She made a note to ask Peter later if he preferred sitting in a field of flowers or next to waterfalls. She had some memories from her previous host  _ (what was her NAME? She couldn’t remember!) _ of such things. He might like them. 

She took another deep breath for the sheer novelty of it, and double checked her list of “improvements”. She had rewired things to make sure that the kid’s heart wouldn’t stop abruptly out of shock (which was something that apparently just...  _ happened _ sometimes??) or stopped breathing because his airways randomly decided to swell shut (something called asthma?). She’d be damned if the kid just fell over one day like a fainting goat and died because Wade jumped out from behind a car screaming “surprise!” while holding flowers or something equally ridiculous. 

_ Not on her watch. She wouldn’t lose a host again. _

Another deep breath. 

His hearing loss in his left ear would have to wait until his next hibernation, since that appeared to be more genetic than environmental. She’d have to repair the nerves manually, mirroring his right ear, which seemed to be fully functional. 

Google said that the weird spots on his brain were most likely the result of mini-strokes. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was from when they’d installed her, which irritated her to no end. She didn’t need to be put into the poor kid’s brain! Her last host had worn her on her chest- Kara’s tendrils had done the rest. But they had actually removed part of the poor kid’s skull for  _ some reason  _ to put her in. 

_ Idiots. _

From what she’d seen on youtube, the surgeons on this planet were butchers at best, and looking at the resulting work, she guessed that whatever doctors Hydra had used, hadn’t been the best to begin with. She was Not Impressed with their work. 

And she still wasn’t sure how the USB thing worked. It shouldn’t work. But it did. They were either geniuses or very very very lucky. She’d put all her money on the second option from what little she could remember from before Wade had rescued them. 

The scarring on his liver could be fixed outside of one of his hibernation/growth sessions, but that was on hold until his ribs were healed. She didn’t need to google the cause of it once she’d looked up what antifreeze was. When he’d first mentioned drinking the stuff she’d assumed that it was maybe some form of special mead or something meant to keep you warm on a winter’s night. She’d been horrified when she learned it was meant for mechanical engines and was known for  _ killing _ animals who ate it by accident. 

_ Idiot child.  _ She was NOT going to let him hurt himself like that again. 

Speaking of hibernation... she frowned as she saw the hormone spike on her internal readout and nudged the pituitary gland into cutting it out. Again. The kid was in no shape or place to pass out for a week straight. The gland was becoming more and more insistent lately. From what she could guess, the kid’s body saw ample consistent calories coming in, and was doing it’s best to play catch up. She wouldn’t be able to keep it from happening for much longer though. A week maximum, then they’d be passed out face first in whatever they fell into whether they wanted it or not. 

Which was just as well. The sooner she could reinforce his skeletal structure and increase his muscle mass the better. He might not grow much vertically this time, but by the time she was done with him, he’d be Very Hard to Kill. Which was good, especially since he kept insisting on running around  _ without any weapons.  _

Thank Odin Wade had been there in the parking garage that one time. 

_ Odin? Who’s Odin?  _

Kara felt her lips press together in frustration. She had gaps in her memory banks, and that was just... unacceptable. 

She ate more sandwich while she stewed. 

After a few moments, she glanced at Wade, who was pointedly ignoring her while aggressively pressing buttons on his gaming device. He was scowling at whatever it was on his screen. 

She pressed her lips together even more firmly. She needed to talk to Wade. He was in charge of where they went and he needed to find them a place to stay for the next month or two. She wasn’t sure how many more hibernations the boy’s body would demand to go through. 

But first things first. She finished the sandwiches and drank all of the water that was in the glass. 

She looked at Wade again. He looked frustrated. 

She sighed, and laid down. She’d see how his mood was tomorrow. 

She closed her eyes and turned on YouTube. 

*****

Kara waited until the next afternoon. Peter’s ribs would be done up well enough for him to travel tomorrow, and then she’d be back in the backseat again. 

“Wade,” she said, as he was fixing her some spaghetti. 

“What?” he snapped. He’d been grumpy and stomping around ever since she’d woken up as herself again this morning. She’d tried to be patient, she really did. But it was well past time that they talked properly. 

“We need to talk.” 

“You need to bring Peter back,” he snapped, and stirred the sauce way more aggressively than necessary. “Don’t need to talk to  _ you _ .” 

He was definitely sulking. 

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” she tried to reassure him.

Wade squinted menacingly at her. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

“We can’t keep traveling. We need a place to rest for at least 3 months.” 

“Oh? And why is that?” his voice was challenging. 

“Because he’s going to hibernate again soon.” 

Wade frowned at her. “Hibernate?”

“Remember when he slept for a week and woke up half a foot taller?” 

Wade froze. “He’s gonna grow again?” 

“I don’t think I can let him. He’s got-”

“Don’t think you can let him, eh?” Wade’s tone was dangerous. 

“Unless you prefer I  _ don’t  _ fix the brain damage from the strokes. But sure. I can let him grow another couple of extra inches instead if that’s what you want,” she said testily. “He needs a house. Or an apartment. Something permanent.” Kara persisted. 

“I’m working on it,” Wade growled. “I’ve made some calls and I’ve got a place lined up.” 

“You have a week.” 

“Making demands, are we?” Wade snarled. 

Kara sighed. “If it weren’t for me, he’d be hibernating already. A week is as long as I can put it off for. After that, he’s going to be incapacitated whether it’s convenient or not. And after that he’s going to need bed rest for another week while I work on fixing all the  _ other _ things that are wrong with him.”

Wade froze. “What else?” 

Kara considered him. “Liver scarring. He’s partially deaf in his left ear. His knees aren’t in the best shape. His webbing nearly tore his spinnerets out of his wrists when he hung from that tree-”

“Webbing? Spinnerets?” 

“He was bitten by a... special spider while he was with Hydra. Peter thinks the webbing is a result of that.” 

“A spider? What-”, Wade sputtered. 

“If his memories are correct, Hydra stole it from some company and wanted to test the effects of the venom. He was the only one who lived.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Wade said, sounding tired. He leaned against the countertop and buried his face in a hand. 

They existed in an uneasy silence for a while. 

“Anything else I should know?”

Kara considered her answer for a long minute.

“He might be bipolar. I can’t really tell if his mood swings are the result of being a teenager, stress from Hydra, or just... brain damage. But they had him on a couple of anti psychotics. And again, I’m not sure if that was to keep him in line, or...” she shrugged. “We need rest and stable routine and no more shootouts or high stress triggers for a while before I can establish a good base line.” 

Wade swore, and stared at the ceiling. Then swore some more. 

Kara waited until it was clear that he wasn’t going to start throwing things. 

“If it helps he’s doing very well, considering. All the things I’ve read said that could have been much much worse, since he stopped the anti psychotics suddenly. He’s only tried to hurt himself once.” 

Wade shook his head. “When was the one time?” he asked, his voice strained.

“What?”

“The time he hurt himself.”

“It was when he bashed his head against the dashboard, and then tried to run into traffic, but you didn’t let him.”

Wade sighed, and some tension left his shoulders. “At least I already knew about that one.” 

Kara watched him. 

"He needs something to do." 

Wade looked at her. Frowned. "Like a hobby?"

"That’s not a bad idea, but I was thinking chores." 

Wade's frown deepened. "He doesn’t need-”

“He _ needs _ to feel like he’s contributing. He worries that he’s going to be kicked out if he doesn’t pull his weight. He  _ needs _ to feel needed.” 

Wade winced. “I thought... we talked about that...”

“Talking is not the same as feeling needed. He needs to feel needed,” Kara repeated. Maybe if she said it enough he’d believe her.

Wade pursed his lips, and stared off into the distance as he stirred the sauce. “Okay. That makes sense, I guess. I’ll... I’ll think of something.” 

Kara watched him as he drained the pasta and dumped the sauce in. She got up and carefully walked to the table. She sat and Wade put down a bowl of spaghetti in front of her. 

“Hurt him and I’ll break your spine,” she said flatly, as she picked up a fork.

For a moment Wade froze. 

“If I hurt him I’ll let you,” he said quietly. 

“Good.” 

Kara ate her spaghetti. It was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that there's only a few chapters left before the book ends. Don't panic. I already have a rough outline of book 2 in my head. It's going to be called Taking Names. It's going to be SO MUCH FUN!


	62. Virginia III - The Gimp Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title sounds mean, but that is how Wade feels about himself. 
> 
> Tags: The voices are meaner than usual to Wade. There’s also some discussion about Wade’s skin condition, which is a bit on the icky side.

Wade answered the phone on the second ring. “Yo.” he offered.

“Good news Wade, they’ve accepted the offer,” Matt’s voice was pleased on the other end.

“When do we get keys?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Yellow hissed at that.

Wade glanced at the sleeping boy on the bed and hummed. “That’s the soonest they can be out?”

“Wade I’m working miracles here already. I had to talk the realtor down for over an hour because they were convinced this was some sort of money laundering scheme.”

Wade made himself take a breath. “Right. Sorry.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Everything alright?” Matt sounded more cautious than caring.

Wade deliberated for a moment. “Yeah. Just... the kid’s finding new and inventive ways of turning my hair gray just about every day.”

Matt snorted. “I’ve heard they do that.”

Pause.

“Karen will meet you on site with keys at noon the day after tomorrow, which is July 2nd. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“And Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever call me again,” Matt said icily, and hung up.

Wade rolled his eyes. “Such a drama queen,” he muttered.

His eyes drifted to the bed. The kid was still passed out, but the nice deep breaths he was taking was very reassuring. If he could do that without waking it meant his ribs weren’t hurting him.

[You should shower. Even I feel gross and I don’t have skin.]

{Yeah. Stop stinking before the kid runs off, Idiot.}

Wade snorted, and glanced again at the kid.

“Fine.”

He regretted it almost as soon as he stepped into the spray. All the camping and running around had seriously disrupted his skin routine, and his back screamed when the water hit it. He had to turn the temp down from his usual “lukewarm” to “damn near freezing,” before his skin stopped feeling like it was on fire.

He’d had it almost manageable when he first picked up Peter, and now it looked like he’d have to start all over again.

_Dammit._

[It’s your own fault for forgetting Idiot.]

Wade rolled his eyes.

He went slow, careful in using his special microfiber super soft washcloth and his ph neutral soap. He’d done a quick baby wipe “bath” a couple of times, but he still had some dried crap on him from where the gun he’d been putting in his jeans was starting to create sores in his skin. Sores, thankfully did not last long, but the scabs had to be carefully scrubbed off before they became embedded.

He needed to get a decent concealed carry holster or something. This was ridiculous. Why didn’t he have one already?

{Because you’re either in your red gimp suit or you’re in your boxers.}

[Doesn’t he normally wear the sweats for laundry day?]

Wade paused in mid soaping of his leg, and did a mental inventory of his clothes. Come to think of it... why the FUCK had he been wearing sweats in the middle of June? Did he not own a single t-shirt?

{There’s that pair of jeans.}

[But it doesn’t even fit you right Idiot. You probably look awful in them.]

{Not that Idiot would look good in anything anyway. The very thick leather mask is a good choice. Saves the world from looking at you.}

“Jesus Christ I need to go shopping,” Wade muttered. He almost couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn his suit-

{It was when you first got Peter.}

That’s right. He’d taken it off right before they went to Denny’s... and he hadn’t put it back on since.

_Huh_.

He wasn’t sure if that was a bad or good thing.

He stood there for a moment, just thinking about it. He COULD go and put the suit on... but he didn’t want to.

_Holy shit he didn’t want to._

The revelation was like a punch to the gut. He LOVED that suit. Spent most of his time in it.

But now... he didn’t really feel like putting it on. At all.

He stared blankly at the wall for at least a solid minute.

“I’m gonna buy so many ugly t-shirts,” he vowed. “They’re gonna be _hideous_.”

[Please don’t Idiot.] White whined.

{It’s awful enough they have to look at you already.}

“I’ll live in Hawaiian shirts,” he vowed. “And Golden Girls. There has to be t-shirts of the Golden Girls _somewhere_ on the internet.”

[MY EYES.]

“You don’t have eyes,” Wade grunted, and got out of the shower. The hotel towels were scratchy as hell, and he held back a wince as he did the bare minimum of drying off before sitting on a towel draped over the toilet seat lid. He propped a leg on the side of the tub and dug his special oil out of his toiletry bag.

“DAD?!”

Peter’s voice was loud and scared, and before Wade could react, the door to the bathroom slammed open.

“Dad!” Peter launched himself at Wade, and nearly knocked him off the toilet.

“What the fuck-” Wade sputtered. Wait.. was this Peter, or Kara? He’d _told_ Kara not to call him Dad...

“I... I woke up and didn’t know where you were,” they said into Wade’s neck, sounding pathetic.

Wade sighed. It was definitely Peter. Only he would be so...

[Neurotic and clingy?]

He was going to say ‘Only Peter could be so... _Peter_.’ but ‘neurotic and clingy' also applied.

Wade wrapped his arms around the kid, and hugged him back.

{Oh thank god this means the bitch is gone.}

White started singing the “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” song from the Wizard of Oz.

Wade did his best to school his amused, fond, and relieved smile into a more appropriate soothing one.

“It’s okay honey. I wouldn’t leave you. You know that.”

“I’m sorry... I just...” Peter sounded miserable.

“You woke up alone in a strange place and panicked is all, eh? Happens to us all.”

He waited until Peter’s breathing got more normal before pushing him off, and brushed a stray hair out of the boy’s face.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah...”

“Good. Now get out of here kid. I’m kinda in the middle of something-”

Peter frowned at him, looked down...

“What? Oh god...” Peter jumped off him like he’d been stung.

Wade rolled his eyes. “Out kid!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry-” The boy was covering his eyes with his hands like some sort of adorable movie stereotype while backing up... and then froze in the doorway.

“Baby boy. Come on. You’re killin’ me here,” Wade groaned.

The hands came off his eyes and Peter grabbed at Wade’s arm. Peter stared at it for several seconds too long and Wade could feel his hackles start to rise-

“Holy shit Dad. Is it always this bad?” he asked, as his small fingers gently traced the outline of a particularly large and angry red scaly spot on his shoulder.

Wade scowled at him. “It’s fine Peter. Now get out,” he barked.

Peter ignored him, and jerked Wade’s arm hard enough to make Wade’s spine groan in protest. He stared at Wade’s back.

“What the fuck kid-” Wade swore, starting to get angry now.

“Dad... seriously? Doesn’t this hurt?” Peter demanded.

“I’m fine!”

“Your back looks like hamburger meat! There’s obviously a big part back there you can’t reach!”

“I’m fine-” Wade growled.

Peter backed up a bit, and looked at Wade- really looked at him. It made Wade want to snarl and shove the kid out-

“Holy shit it’s all OVER you-”

“I know! And it’s fine!” Wade roared.

“You’re not FINE!” Peter roared back. “This... this is not okay Dad!”

“Well it doesn’t go away so I just have to live with it, alright?”

“You back shouldn’t look like ground meat- how do you even live like this-”

“I’m taking care of it!”

Peter raised an eyebrow at him, and pointedly looked him up and down again. Wade glared back. Peter didn’t back down.

“Your ankles are swollen,” Peter’s voice dripped with disapproval.

Wade scowled, and looked at his ankles. They were... well. They definitely weren’t dainty, but then again they never had been to begin with.

“They’re FINE. They’re ankles-”

Peter knelt and pressed a thumb into the flesh by his ankle.

“Ow- what-”

Peter moved his hand away. A small thumb indent remained.

“Huh...”

“That’s not supposed to happen Dad. You’re retaining fluid.” Peter said firmly.

“Babe- whatever it is is fine. I can’t die remember?” Wade’s was exasperated. “Now get OUT-”

“Dad,” Peter’s voice was firm, and his tone was very unimpressed. “Just because you can’t die doesn’t mean you have to be uncomfortable. Let me help you.”

“Peter I can manage by myself-”

“No.”

Jesus Christ the kid was pushing all of his buttons right now. He clenched his hands down at his side. He would NOT shove him, no matter how much he wanted to just kick him out and slam the bathroom door in his face right now. He would NOT be his shitty asshole father right now...

“Peter-” it took all of Wade’s control not to shout at the boy.

“Let. Me. Help.”

Wade threw up his hands. “There’s nothing you can do-”

“Yes, there is.”

“Baby...”

“You’re retaining fluid probably because of the cancer. My Aunt did the same thing. I can help with that. And put lotion on you. You’re obviously missing places. I bet the back of your knees and thighs are patchy as fuck right now.”

Wade flinched a bit at that. “How the fuck do you know that?” he demanded.

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re bulky and not very flexible. Plus everyone forgets about the back of the knees.”

Wade closed his eyes, grit his teeth and sighed.

{The kid does have a point. Not that I WANT him touching you but you super fucking suck at taking care of yourself, Idiot.}

[Don’t let him touch your back. You’ll just... ooze over him.]

“Baby-” Wade searched for the words. “You... you don’t have to do this. This...” he gestured vaguely “is just... disgusting. I won’t subject you to that-”

Peter stood, crossed his arms, and said, “You are NOT disgusting. And I’m helping you,” like he was declaring the end of a war. It was obvious that the Rocky Mountains would pack up and move somewhere warmer before the kid gave in.

Wade folded. “Fine,” he conceded, spitting the word out.

Peter lit up like a light bulb. “Great. I’ll get some towels. You bring the lotion. Come out and lay on the bed.”

“Peter-”

Peter ignored him, grabbed some towels and left the bathroom.

Wade sighed. “What the fuck even is my life right now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think there’s a parent alive that hasn’t been ambushed while naked/underdressed at some point by their children. It’s happened to me like 3 times and I’m just an Aunt. If you do have children and haven’t experienced this, congrats on your awesome locking doors and constant vigilance.


	63. Virginia IV - Nip/Tuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Marshmallow grade fluff, and iffy medical procedures. Seriously, these two are idiots and should never be allowed near sharp objects ever. If you’re super squeamish, you can check out right around the time Kara has an “idea”, and come back when they mention “baby shark”. 
> 
> This chapter is a long one.

Peter ripped the comforter off the bed and tossed it into a corner. He did the same with top sheet, and then carefully laid out towels on the bottom sheet so Wade wouldn’t get lotion all over the sheets. They’d have to order more towels from room service after this. 

The door to the bathroom opened, and Wade walked out in boxers. Peter frowned pointedly at him. 

Wade blinked, looked down at the boxers, then back at Peter. “I’m not having you put lotion on my ass, kid,” he said sternly. 

Peter snorted. “Oh no. Me putting lotion on an ass. It’s the end of the world,” he said flatly, with as much sarcasm as possible. 

“Not happening.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Stop being a baby and lay on the towels already.” 

Wade sighed, put a couple of bottles on the nightstand and got on the bed. 

“Go on your stomach first,” Peter said absently, as he looked at the bottles, frowning. He flipped them over to look at the ingredients. 

“Does this stuff have ANY vitamin E in it at all?” he asked, horrified. 

“No idea, but it doesn’t hurt. And it keeps my scars soft.” 

Peter harrumphed. “I’ll make you a batch of the good stuff later,” he groused, and put a dab of... straight up oil? In his hand. 

Peter pressed his lips together. No wonder Wade’s back looked like hamburger if this SHIT was what he’d been using. But it’s all he had for now, so it would have to do. He climbed up on the bed behind his dad and settled down at his feet. He bent Wade’s knee at a 90 degree angle and started with his feet. 

And just as he’d suspected, the skin between the toes looked even worse than his back. Wade hissed as Peter separated them with his fingers and slathered them with a stupid amount of oil. 

“Stop fussing,” Peter grumped. “You’re lucky your skin didn’t start fusing together, and toes take  _ forever _ to stop bleeding.”

Wade snorted. 

It wasn’t until Peter was gently making downward strokes on Wade’s shins that Wade spoke up again. 

“If you think this is going to get you out of trouble you are sorely mistaken,” Wade’s voice was flat. 

For a moment, Peter froze. “Trouble?”

“You rebooted without supervision Peter. Do you even know what happened afterwards?” Thankfully, there was just a hint of anger there, so Peter wasn’t in complete deep shit, he didn’t think. 

Peter frowned. “I... woke up in a hotel room?” he offered. 

“Your heart stopped. I had to do CPR. I broke your ribs,” Wade said flatly. 

Peter took a second to prod his own chest, frowning. “But I feel fine.” 

“You’ve been out of it for like 4 days.”

“Oh?” Peter frowned, and stared at his stomach. “That’s weird. Normally I’d be starving.” 

“Yeah well,  _ Kara _ ate for you,” Wade’s voice dripped with disapproval. 

Peter rolled his eyes and went back to rubbing Wade’s leg. “Don’t be silly.” 

“She did. She got up and walked around using your body and drank and ate and talked and everything. Or did she not tell you that?” 

“Kara?” 

(Wade didn’t like it.)

Peter stopped again, staring at a point on a wall. “You... ate for me while I healed?” his voice wavered. 

(I didn’t want you to be in pain. You asked me to help you.)

Peter blinked back tears. “Holy shit Kara... that... that’s like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.” 

(Your welcome Peter. Any time.) Kara said warmly. 

“Whoa whoa whoa there baby boy. Did you forget the part where your heart stopped and the part where she made you her meat puppet? Because I didn’t!” Wade said, upset.

“Well... I’m fine now. And... I did ask her to help me. You ever try to chew with cracked ribs Dad? It’s not fun.” 

“Jesus christ on a pogo stick,” Wade swore. “You were a meat puppet, baby! That is SO not okay. AND...” Wade twisted around to properly glare at Peter. “For the record, your heart stopping was probably the second worst thing I’ve ever lived through. And I’ve been literally torn in half. So. No. It’s not okay.  _ At all _ .” Wade said angrily. 

Peter shrank back. “I’m sorry,” he managed, looking anywhere but at Wade. 

For a moment, nothing happened, and Peter just... watched Wade carefully out of the corner of his eye. 

Wade grunted, but deflated, and laid his head back down. “New rule: You’re not allowed to reboot or reinitialize or  _ anything _ like that unless I say you can. Got it?” he said firmly. 

“Yes Wade,” Peter managed quietly. 

Wade sighed. “Good.” 

Peter waited, but when no shouting or hitting or shoving happened, he took a breath and went back to working on Wade’s legs. 

“I didn’t know my heart would stop,” he offered quietly as he worked on the calf. 

“But you knew you would seize,” Wade countered. “I read your note.” 

“Kara said it  _ might _ happen.” 

“And that didn’t alarm you?” 

“I’ve had seizures before. They suck but...” Peter shrugged. “It’s not the worst thing ever.” 

“You have seizures?” Wade sounded alarmed.

“Not like... random seizures.” Peter rushed to reassure him. “They were doing some tests or something... I think? I don’t really remember that day very well. I woke up with a broken arm and they told me I did it during a seizure.” 

Wade growled a bit at that. “Well, I can tell you as the one watching it happen- it sucked. Majorly. I think you shaved a few years off my life there kid.”

“I thought you were immortal.” 

Wade opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped. “Immortal?”

“Well, you said you can’t die, right?” 

There was silence for a long time as Peter started to work on the other leg. 

“I... I mean... I might die of old age?” Wade said hesitantly. 

Peter said nothing, and continued working the oil into Wade’s skin.

“Shit,” Wade said after a long time. 

Peter shrugged. “I dunno. Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” 

Wade snorted. “I’d really rather not experience the sun expanding and then blowing up, thank you very much,” he said dryly. 

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Why would the sun explode?” 

“Oh my god babe. I so need to get you enrolled into a school.” 

Peter stopped. “A school?” he asked hesitantly. “Like... with lockers... and a cafeteria and stuff?” 

“Eventually, I guess. We’d need to work on your spelling first though,” Wade said, “And your handwriting. And well, probably your everything.” 

Peter stared at a spot on the wall. Of course he’d seen schools in movies and TV. You sat at a weird chair thing in rows and stared at a teacher while they... talked? Or something? It looked a lot like a briefing session before a mission. Only briefings had more pictures to look at. In the movies people were always talking in the back. Which was stupid. Talking during a briefing was a good way to get shocked or smacked or both. 

“I don’t know...” Peter said hesitantly. “I’ve never been in a school. I think... I think it might be... weird?” 

“I was thinking of starting you with some online classes first baby.” 

“What... like tomorrow?” 

“Good god no. In a month or two once we’ve settled into the house.” 

“A house?” 

“Yeah. I bought us a house. We move in the day after tomorrow. I thought I told Kara that...” 

“Dad. I was out of it. If you’re talking to Kara that means I’m sleeping,” Peter complained, while his mind reeled. A house? A whole house? 

(He said he had a place lined up, not when we were moving in.) Kara offered. 

“Yeah well, I bought a house. I thought we talked about this. You’re going to get a whole bedroom just for you.” 

Peter frowned. “I didn’t realize you were serious.” 

“Well, I was.” 

Peter worked on Wade’s left ankle. 

“You’re... serious? I... mean.. We’re gonna live in a house?” Peter said hesitantly. 

“Yes.”

“Like... a house house?” 

“I wasn’t aware there were other kinds kiddo,” Wade chuckled. 

Peter was silent for a long time. His own bedroom. In a house house. It made his stomach twist. Would Wade put a lock on it like his Uncle had? He was strong enough these days he could just kick the door down if he had to... 

“You okay honey? I thought you’d be happy.” 

Peter bit his lip. “Does... does it have a basement?” he asked quietly, trying his best to feel out the answer to his unasked worries. How exactly do you ask “Will you lock me in a storage room in the basement?” or say “Small enclosed spaces with concrete walls give me panic attacks?” 

Not that Wade would lock him in the basement. 

Of course not. 

Right? 

(Wade would not lock us in a basement Peter.) Kara said firmly. (I would not allow it.) 

Well, that was nice. But she shared his body. So if he was stuck what the fuck would SHE do about it? 

(I have some tricks up my sleeve.)

_ Goody.  _ Peter hoped he never found out what the fuck she was talking about. 

Wade was silent for a moment while Peter low-key panicked. “It does...” he said carefully. “But I was going to put the armory and the panic room and maybe a pantry down there.” 

Peter was quiet for a while longer. “I... I don’t like basements.” 

“Okay.” 

Peter worked on the leg.

“I don’t want to live in the basement,” Peter blurted. 

Wade turned to look at him. “As long as I’m alive you will never have to step foot in a basement again if you don’t want to,” he said firmly. “No one is going to lock you in ANYTHING, okay?” 

Peter stared at him. Oh god, how he wanted to believe him. 

“Promise?” Peter whispered. 

“Pinky swear.” 

They shook pinkies. The angle was weird and they both had to lean in a bit, but Peter suddenly felt like he could breathe again. 

“Does... will my room have a window?” 

Wade smiled softly at him. “Yes. And even if it didn’t I would add as many as you want.” 

He was going to live in a house. And he wasn’t going to be in the basement. He was going to have a room. With a window.  _ Like an actual person.  _

He could look out his window and see the sky  _ whenever he wanted.  _

“You okay baby?” 

Peter just looked at him. “I... we’re gonna live in a HOUSE,” he said, teary eyed. 

“Yep,” Wade grinned at him. 

Peter stared at a wall. A sudden bout of courage gripped him. “Can I paint my walls?” 

“Yes.”

“Posters?” he threw out. He had no idea what he’d get posters of, but all the kids in the movies and TV had posters on the wall. He’d always wanted one. 

“Sure.” 

“I want stars on the ceiling,” Now he was just being greedy. Testing boundaries. 

“Of course,” Wade agreed. His smile was indulgent. 

“And... and... art stuff? Like... a desk? I can draw at?” This was pie-in-the-sky hope now. But Wade seemed to be in a “yes” mood and Peter was going to see how far he could go. 

“You like to draw?” 

“Yeah. When I can. Aunt May... she used to get me spiral notebooks from the supermarket for like a dollar or something.” 

“I’ll get you sketchbooks. And a desk.” 

“And paint?” Peter felt dizzy. 

“Gallon buckets of it.” 

Peter suddenly couldn’t breathe properly. “I want... I...” there were so MANY things that he wanted. That he’d never dreamed that he could have. And Wade... was just going to GIVE it to him. He didn’t even have to do powerpoint presentations on why he needed it or anything. It was... overwhelming. Was there such a thing as having a panic attack from being too happy? Was that a thing? Because he felt like that might happen any moment now... 

“Hey...” 

Peter looked down at his dad. “Yeah?” 

“You can have anything you want baby. Even the moon.” 

Peter blinked at him for a minute, then dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

Giggles turned to laughter as Wade looked on in confusion. 

“You okay baby?” 

That triggered a full on belly laugh. Peter couldn’t stop it even if wanted to. It was as if someone had opened a box full of laughter in his brain and lost the key. It just... spilled out of him, and he wound up collapsing next to Wade on the bed. And every time he thought he had it under control he’d look at Wade’s face and it would start up all over again. 

Wade joined him in the giggles after the second time Peter tried and failed to contain his laughter. 

“You are so ridiculous baby,” Wade managed. “What’s so funny anyway?”

“You can’t give me the  _ moon _ Dad- it’s the fucking moon! It wouldn’t...” Peter got another attack of the giggles. “It wouldn’t fit in my room!” 

“Well I don’t know baby... I could always knock down a wall or two I suppose,” Wade said with a twinkle in his eye. 

That set Peter off again. “There wouldn’t be any house left! It’s the moon!” he managed between giggles. 

“Hey. I’d make it work! I know a guy!” 

They laughed. 

“Dad you make no sense sometimes,” Peter complained good naturedly when he got his breath back. 

“Of course I don’t! Where would the fun be if I made sense!” Wade giggled, cupped Peter’s face with a wide hand and kissed Peter’s forehead. “God I love you so much baby,” he said, and beamed at Peter. 

Peter beamed back. “I love you to Dad,” he said it before he even knew what he was saying. It just... poured out of him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Wade’s and just... soaked this feeling in. 

He didn’t want to forget this. Ever. 

They just laid there for a while, enjoying the moment. 

It was Wade who broke the mood first. He leaned back and said “Is it just me, or is it WAY past breakfast time?” 

As if on cue, Peter’s stomach rumbled, and Peter could  _ feel _ the blush spread across his face. 

Wade laughed, “How about I order us some pasta?” 

“Can we do Chinese? I want to try it,” Peter whined. 

“How about this: when we move in I’ll order Chinese. Today you’ll get pizza.” 

Peter sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled. 

Wade rolled to get off the bed, and Peter didn’t miss the tiny wince he made when the skin on his back pulled as he got up. 

He watched closely as Wade padded lightly across the room to get his phone. The skin on Wade’s back didn’t so much stretch as it cracked and broke repeatedly before healing back again a moment later as the large man bent over to dig the phone out of duffle bag that had been left on a chair. 

Peter bit his lip. Wade’s back just made absolutely no sense. Neither did the man’s toes. He’d literally bounced back after being shot in the head for fucks’s sake! So why the hell was the skin on his back so fucked up? 

(I have an idea on how to help Wade.) Kara said. 

“Oh?” Peter murmored as Wade called some delivery place. 

She told him. 

Peter turned to stare at a wall for a while. “That...” he said flatly, “is literally the worst idea in the history of the entire world.” 

Wade frowned at him, but made no comment as he was in the middle of ordering. 

“It cannot  _ possibly _ be that simple,” Peter continued. 

(But you could do it.) 

“Well... I mean... yeah. I guess?” 

Wade hung up. “What’s stupid?” 

“I could just cut the bad skin off your back.” 

Wade stared at him, wide eyed. “That... could actually work,” he said finally. 

15 minutes later Peter stood in the bathroom wearing only his boxers and holding a freshly sharpened machete and said “Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

Wade rolled his eyes, and leaned against the shower wall, naked. “Fuck no. This is a terrible idea. Which is why it’s going to work. The worst ideas are usually the best ones.” 

Peter considered Wade’s position. “Lean against the wall here- that way if you splatter it’ll hit the shower wall and not the floor.” 

“Now we’re talking,” Wade said, and shifted so his back was to the faucet. “How’s this?” 

“Ugh. This is going to suck. Are you sure you’re okay with it?” 

“Baby, this is nothing. I’m more worried about you. You don’t have to do this, you know. I could just duct tape a box grater to the wall and do it myself-”

“Don’t do that,” Peter replied instantly. “You’ll just wind up with a grater embedded in your back.” 

Wade snorted. “You underestimate how much duct tape I’d use.” 

“You overestimate how much duct tape can fix,” Peter sassed back. 

Wade fake gasped. “Blasphemy!” 

Peter snorted a laugh before climbing into the tub and standing behind Wade. He surveyed the task ahead. “Jesus Christ, Dad... how the fuck did it get this bad?” 

“I have no idea. Now hurry up and cut this shit off me.” 

“Hang on...” he dragged a trash can lined with a hefty bag closer to the tub. “You got your belt?”

“Mmph,” Wade replied, mouth already full of leather.

Peter sighed, swore, closed the shower curtain, and started. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d cut someone. He’d thrown knives into eyeballs on at least two occasions and didn’t even blink. There had even been that time in Jacksonville where he’d impaled a guy with his own sword right before Delta had broken the sprinkler system with his stupid Bo staff stick thing. 

But using a gigantic fucking machete to carve off layers of skin was a first. And the worst thing about it wasn’t the blood. Or the pus. It was the fact that Wade was keeping perfectly still and making no noise AT ALL while Peter did it. If he didn’t hear the creaking of the leather of the belt as Wade bit into it, Peter would have thought that Wade wasn’t even feeling anything. 

Peter tried to work faster. 

Twice the blade caught on pieces of fucking glass, and Peter had to stop what he was doing to dig the fragments out. How the fuck Wade had been walking around with  _ glass _ in his back was beyond him. There was also a whole handful of gravel that was just hanging out right in the middle of where Peter guessed Wade couldn’t reach. Peter just cut deeper there, and prayed he got it all. 

Then the blade hit a weird white object on Wade’s right shoulder blade. Frowning, he picked at it. 

“Dad I swear to god if this is a human tooth I’m gonna make you watch Baby Shark on repeat for like an hour,” Peter threatened. 

Wade grunted. 

It wasn’t a tooth. It was a piece of wood the size of a pea. Peter wasn’t sure which was worse, really. 

Peter sighed and stepped back. “I’m done. I think.” 

Wade spat out the belt. “Jesus Christ kid. Baby Shark? Really? That song is the WORST.” 

“Would you rather listen to me sing 99 bottles of beer?” Peter asked with false sweetness. 

Wade considered. “I think I’d rather cut my ears off baby.” 

Peter snorted. “Good choice. I can’t sing for shit.” 

There was a loud knocking sound. 

“What the fuck is that?” Wade wondered. 

Peter frowned. Then gasped. “The pizza!” 

“You’re gonna have to get it, I’ll drip all over the carpet,” Wade said. 

Peter swore, and shoved the shower curtain to the side. 

“Wipe yourself down sweet pea. You look like you’re in the middle of dismembering something.” 

Peter snorted, grabbed a towel, and gave his face, hands, and chest a quick wipe with a towel before he padded out into the bedroom. He grabbed the money bag from under the bed and blindly grabbed a handful of hundreds.

They knocked again.

“Coming!” he shouted, and shoved the bag back under the bed. He answered the door. 

A pimply teenage boy in a Pizza Hut uniform stood there with two foil lined pizza bags.

Peter beamed a genuine smile at him. “Holy shit I hope those are all mine.” 

The kid stared at him for a moment before swallowing. “I’ve got two large pineapple and olives, two large meat lovers, 36 honey BBQ wings, 2 orders of cheese sticks, and a chocolate chip cookie,” the kid said, his voice cracking towards the end.

“Fuck yes.” 

“Um.. that’ll be $137.28” For some reason the kid kept looking behind Peter. 

Frowning, Peter checked behind him. The weapons duffel was out and opened. Several shotguns leaned against the wall, and two automatic rifles were leaning drunkenly on a chair. A sniper rifle was out and half disassembled on the table behind him. To cap it off, a dozen knives of various sizes were liberally sprinkled on table and carpet. 

The kid’s eyes flicked back to Peter, who stood in the doorway. Peter looked down, and realized that while he’d wiped his chest and arms down, he’d missed his legs, which were splattered with blood... and other things. 

Shit.

Peter smiled at the poor kid, though his eyes were hard. “Hey kid.” 

The kid looked up at Peter’s eyes and swallowed again. 

Peter made a point of looking at the kid’s name tag. 

“It’s okay  _ Derek. _ Here-” Peter’s voice indicated that things were Okay Now, but could easily be Not Okay if he so chose. He held out a wad of bills. “Go take your momma somewhere nice or something.” 

The kid’s eyes widened when they saw the money. 

“Go on. I don’t bite,” Peter waved it a bit. He hoped the unspoken message ‘Take the stupid amount of money and keep your mouth shut’ came through loud enough. The last thing they needed were spooked cops raiding the place.

The kid hesitated a moment, then took it. 

“Good choice. Pizza me, kid.” 

The kid unloaded his pizzas and then ran for it. 

Peter sighed and closed the door, then tossed the pizzas on a bed. 

“You about done bleeding in there?” he asked as he leaned into the bathroom.

“Eh. Give me another 5. Why?”

“We left the guns out and the poor pizza kid damn near had a heart attack.” 

Wade turned to look at Peter. 

“Pizza kid?” he asked with a raised brow.

Peter shrugged. 

“You know he was probably older than you, right?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “He freaked over a couple of guns, Dad. He’s a  _ kid _ .”

“If you say so baby,” Wade said, though he sounded amused. “If you say so.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated for weeks on how to solve Wade’s terrible skin problem. I searched for lotions and creams and nothing really clicked. Until I realized the only way to really fix it would be to just cut it off and let it heal back fresh and new. And to be honest, doing horrible awful needful medical crap is just another thing that families do for each other.


	64. Virginia V - Being Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: More medical stuff. Wade cuts his toes off with bolt cutters. I swear I’m not into medical gore, but I’m fairly sure that this sort of stuff falls under “Deadpool being Deadpool”. 
> 
> This chapter is a long one. Get your drinks and snacks. We’ve got feels to navigate before these two hit the road again.

It really shouldn’t have worked. In fact, it was such a stupid idea he was shocked to his core that White hadn’t suggested it EONS ago. 

And yet, he sat in the bathtub bleeding like a stuck pig and missing most of the skin on his back, and he felt  _ better already.  _

{Still don’t think we should have let Peter do it.} 

Wade rolled his eyes. “Just a little light skinning, Yellow. No big deal,” he muttered. Peter had gone and was negotiating the release of the pizza. His gaze fell on his toes. Those fuckers were just gonna have to go. He wasn’t going to let Peter carve those up- it would take too long. 

“You about done bleeding in there?” Peter asked as he leaned into the bathroom.

“Eh. Give me another 5. Why?”

“We left the guns out and the poor pizza kid damn near had a heart attack.” 

Wade turned to look at Peter. 

“Pizza kid?” he asked with a raised brow.

Peter shrugged. 

“You know he was probably older than you, right?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “He freaked over a couple of guns, Dad. He’s a  _ kid _ .”

“If you say so baby,” Wade said, amused. “If you say so.” 

“You want your pizza now?” 

“Leave a box on the toilet seat. Oh- and grab me the bolt cutters, eh?” 

Peter froze halfway out the door. “Bolt cutters?” his voice was confused and alarmed. 

“Fastest way to fix my toes,” Wade said, and wiggled said toes. “Might as well do it now.” 

Peter looked stricken. “Dad... you can’t... you can’t just cut your toes off-”

“They’ll grow back baby. Remember? I regenerate.” 

Peter bit his lip, looking concerned. “Do you need me to-”

“Fuck no. I can do it. You get me the bolt cutters and go watch TV or something,” Wade said, waving a hand vaguely. “And get me a knife!” he called as Peter left the doorway. 

Peter reappeared a few moments later and put a pizza box on the closed toilet seat. Wade made gimmie hands while Peter juggled a bit before handing over the bolt cutters. 

“You sure you don’t want me to help you-’ Peter said, concerned. 

“It’s fine baby. I’d have done my back myself but I can’t reach it. This is long enough to let me get to my tootsies myself,” Wade said and put the knife on the floor next to the tub. “Now scoot,” Wade said, and shooed at Peter. 

Peter sighed. “Fine. But when you’re done bleeding I need to work on your hands.” 

Wade frowned at him. “My hands?”

“Your joints are swollen.” 

Wade sighed. “Fine. Fine. Now shoo already! Jesus! Can’t a man be naked in a bathtub of blood and gore in peace around here?” he mock complained. 

Peter snorted, rolled his eyes. “You’re so weird,” Peter complained as he left.

“Damn right I am,” Wade agreed loudly. 

He got the bolt cutters and eyed his messed up feet. 

“Why the fuck did I not do this ages ago?” he muttered, and took off his pinky toe and the one next to it in one snip. It hurt, but not that bad. The toes fell to the tub floor, and Wade snipped off two more toes before collecting them and putting them in the trash can along with hunks of ruined skin from the tub drain. 

[Seriously. The bad guys just need a picnic basket and a strong stomach. Why do they always chase us around, anyway?]

{Because some people are bigger idiots than even Idiot is.} Yellow snapped. {And you haven’t yelled properly at Peter yet.} 

Wade winced and snipped off his left big toe. 

“I ain’t gonna  _ yell _ at him,” he muttered. “Not his fault Kara lied to him.” 

{While I am all for blaming the bitch, that doesn’t make Peter any less stupid for what he did.}

Both Wade and White audibly gasped. 

[PETER IS NOT STUPID! YOU TAKE THAT BACK!] White screamed, loud enough to make Wade wince. 

{The kid was tricked into getting his heart stopped! At the very least we have to throw out the damn laptop to keep him from doing it again!} 

“I’m gonna throw out the cord,” Wade muttered. “He can’t reboot without it.”

{That YOU know of.} 

“I’ll talk to him Yellow!” Wade hissed angrily and took off some more toes. 

“You okay Dad?” Peter called from the bedroom. 

“All good baby!” Wade called back automatically.

When his toes started to regenerate, and he could feel a fresh layer of skin on his back he hosed himself down and patted himself dry with the awful hotel towels. He put on some boxer shorts and hobbled out into the bedroom with the half eaten pizza still in the box. 

Peter was lying on the bed, watching some sort of video on his laptop. 

“Wanna piece?” Wade offered playfully, holding out the open box just under Peter’s nose.

Peter recoiled as if Wade had offered him literal shit and wrinkled his nose. “Ew- no Dad! Don’t make me hurl!” Peter snarked, and batted the box away from his face. 

Wade snorted. “Pineapple and olive pizza makes you hurl, but you carve skin off my back no problem,” he mused, and ruffled the kids hair, despite Peter’s protests. “You’re weird.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Are we gonna have to squeegee the bathroom?” he asked. 

“Nah. We’ll just have to dump the trash ourselves. Don’t want the maid calling the cops thinking a serial killer dumped toes in the trash or something. Which is just bad serial killer etiquette. You have to let joggers find the bodies, not maids. It’s like rule number two of serial killers,” Wade rambled. 

Peter snorted, his eyes still fixed on the laptop. 

Wade stood there for a minute, watching the boy. 

{Go on. Be a dad, Idiot.} Yellow sneered. {Can’t wait to see you fuck this up.} 

Wade sighed, and closed the laptop. 

Peter blinked. “What?” he demanded, “I was watching that-”

“We need to talk baby,” Wade said seriously, and sat down on the bed. 

Peter stared at him open mouthed for a moment, before all the color drained out of his face. 

“Talk?” he squeaked. 

“About rebooting. About Kara.” Wade said. 

Peter’s eyes bounced around the room nervously as he sat up in bed. “Oh?” the kid went for nonchalant, and missed the mark by several thousand miles. 

“Look at me.” 

Peter tried. His eyes kept darting from Wade’s face to his chest, and other random points behind him, and Wade didn’t miss how Peter’s hands were clenched in the blanket he’d been sitting on.

“You cannot reboot again. Period. Do you understand me?” Wade said, his voice iron. 

Peter relaxed minutely. “Okay,” he said quietly. 

“I mean it. I’m taking that stupid cord and cutting it up. You’re not allowed another one. You understand me?” 

“Yes Wade,” Peter said quietly. 

Wade took a breath and fixed the kid with his best “I’m being super serious right now glare.” He was rusty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to someone seriously. But his gut was telling him that this was too easy. The kid was caving to quickly. He’d expected an argument. Justification for his actions. Or at the very least some form of resistance. But the kid just... folded. 

{It’s a tactical retreat.} 

Wade pressed his lips together. 

[That doesn’t make any sense Yellow. The kid hasn’t even moved off the bed.] White whined. 

Wade narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to obey my rules or you just saying ‘yes Wade’ to get this over with?” 

Peter flinched slightly and bit his lower lip. “I’ll obey,” he said, just as quietly, but now with a trace of fear. 

Now it was Wade’s turn to angst. He wanted to comfort the boy but any cuddles or weakness might make the kid think the new rule was bendable. And it was NOT. 

“Another new rule,” Wade said, and Peter shrank down a bit on himself. 

[Stop being so god damn MEAN.] White whined. 

Wade ignored him. “Don’t believe everything Kara tells you.” 

Peter jolted like he’d been shocked, and his face turned from stoic fear to confusion. “What?” he said.

“Don’t believe everything Kara tells you. Just because she’s in your head doesn’t mean she’s right. Or knows everything. Or that she’s not lying to you.”

Peter looked scandalized. “Kara- she wouldn’t-”

“But she  _ did _ . She told you that your reboot would make you seize, right?” 

Peter nodded cautiously. 

“But she didn’t tell you that she was going to stop your heart, right?” 

Peter stared even more intently at the carpet. 

Wade sighed. “She didn’t tell you probably because she thought you wouldn’t agree to it if she told you. And that’s called lying by omission sweet pea.” 

Still no eye contact. 

“Would you have let her do it if she’d told you?” 

Peter considered for a minute before giving a listless shrug. 

{Ugh. He’s so freaking GULLIBLE.} 

[I wish Idiot was gullible. Maybe then we’d still be in that whorehouse in Texas.] White said dreamily. 

{The good one was in Colorado. The Texas one was disgusting.}

[Meh. We’re not picky anyway.] 

Jesus Christ, now was not the time for “list the best whorehouses that you can remember.” 

He struggled to get back on task. Right.  _ Kara was a bitch.  _

“Voices in your head are like the last thing you should listen to, baby. Just because she shares your brain space doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own agenda.” 

Peter winced, and looked distressed. 

“Is she talking smack about me right now?” Wade asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. 

“She... she says you don’t like her.” 

“I don’t. She pretended to be you when she woke up. Scared me shitless. She doesn’t act anything like a human, you know? Thought you’d seized yourself into some serious brain damage or something.” 

“She says she didn’t want to upset you.” 

Wade shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said. 

{Uh... I just had a Bad Thought.} Yellow said, cutting Wade off. {If baby boy doesn’t play ball to her tune, what’s to keep her from just... taking over whenever she wants?}

[Holy shit I wish we could do that. That would be awesome! Do you think if I tried really hard I could walk us over to the nearest Taco Bell?] 

A sudden chill ran down Wade’s spine. He knew damn well what Yellow and White would do if they could take over. And if Kara took over... and say... walked away while Wade was sleeping... 

His brain hurt from the sudden gear change. This was worse than being stabbed in the heart. He could tell from personal experience. He swallowed, and decided to choose his next words very carefully. 

“I think... it would be best if you ran Kara’s ideas by me first, baby. That way I can help make it safe for everyone, okay?” he said slowly. 

Peter blinked, and looked at him suspiciously. 

“I thought you didn’t like her,” he said. 

Wade flailed, both physically and mentally. “Even Hitler had some good ideas, ya know,” he babbled. “Let’s just run her ideas by me first, eh? Then we can do them together.” 

Peter frowned, clearly puzzled. “Who’s Hitler?” 

Wade blinked, then sighed. 

{Holy shit this is going to be like guarding a sheep wearing a steak suit.} Yellow groaned. 

[A steak suit? That sounds stupid. Why would a sheep wear a suit?] 

Wade sighed again. What was his life even right now? “I thought you were a fan of Captain America baby boy.” 

Peter made a face. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Cap fought him in World War 2 honey. He was like... the lead bad guy.”

Peter frowned. “You mean... like the guy who had a red face and no nose?”

“I mean the guy with a funny mustache and brown uniform.” 

Peter considered for a moment. 

“Oh! Yeah, I remember him. He talked funny in the cartoons.” 

“But like I was saying, I want you to run Kara’s ideas by me first, okay?” 

Peter considered for a moment too long, and Wade felt himself hold his breath. He wasn’t sure he was “Dad” enough to know what to do if Peter straight up told him to go fuck himself right now. Short of sitting on him or locking him in a closet- 

{NOT an option.} Yellow snarled. 

[NO closets for Peter!] White agreed. 

Wade held in a snort. Of course he wasn’t going to put his baby in a closet. But aside from smacking a kid around, he had no concept on how to discipline a kid. 

_ Thanks a lot Dad... _

So he held his breath, and prayed his baby would see sense. 

“Okay,” Peter said at last, and Wade held in a sigh of relief, and settled for smiling at the boy. 

“Thank you baby,” he said, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want you safe, you know that right? I just want you to be okay.” 

“Okay Dad,” Peter said. 

“It’s still early. You wanna watch a movie on your laptop?” 

“Okay.”

Wade sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. Peter settled down between his legs, and rested the laptop atop his knees. He leaned back against Wade as he selected a movie- John Wick. 

“Hands,” Peter demanded as Wick was breaking up the concrete in his basement. 

Wade obliged him, and watched with growing curiosity as Peter gently worked on each of Wade’s fingers and wrists. 

“What exactly are you doing baby?” he asked, curiosity overcoming him. 

“It’s a special kind of massage. My aunt’s hospice nurse showed me how. It’s to help the fluid drain back to where it’s supposed to go.” 

“Really?” 

“Hmm. Apparently,” Peter said, gently working over a pinky, “There’s like a rain gutter system or something in the body. I forget what it’s called. But cancer messes with it and it can get like... clogged? So you gotta make the fluid move, otherwise it builds up.” 

Wade sat and watched the nightclub get shot to hell. The gun work, while not perfect, was pretty to watch. The reloading was nice. Most action movies thought that guns had unlimited ammo or something. 

“You have to do this massage on her often?”

“Every day. Towards the end it didn’t help much though,” Peter said absently. “She swelled so much her skin started to split.” 

Wade stilled. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Had to make some special lotion for her. Thank god for Amazon Prime,” Peter said. “Towards the end she couldn’t go out and shop like she used to.”

They sat in silence for a while. Wick was doing awful but cool things to a church now. “I’ll make you some when we get home.” 

“Oh?” Wade said. He felt like his heart had skipped a beat there. 

“Hmm,” Peter agreed. 

Wade smiled into Peter’s hair. “I’m sure it’ll be awesome honey.” 

Peter snorted. “Of course it will be,” he said smugly, and then giggled.

Wade frowned suspiciously down at Peter. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, because while Wick was awesome he wasn’t being funny at the moment. 

“Nothing,” Peter said way too innocently. 

Wade hummed. The brat was up to something. But what- he had no idea. 

Wick was shooting at a car when the urge hit him. 

“Babe- you gotta move.” 

“Oh?” the tone was way too innocent again. 

Wade snorted, and bodily lifted the boy out of his lap before rushing to the bathroom. He could hear Peter giggling as he took the longest piss in his entire life. Entire ecosystems would be watered for the rest of eternity from this restroom break alone, he thought with mild horror. 

When he was done, he stumbled back to bed. “What... the fuck...” he managed into the mattress. Credits were rolling on the laptop. 

“Relax Dad. It just means that the massage worked is all,” Peter smirked. 

Wade stared at Peter, who had a smug smile. 

“You KNEW?” 

Peter shrugged. “If you’re lucky you’ll go again in another hour or so.” 

Wade stared. “I don’t actually think that’s possible baby.” 

Peter shrugged. “You’re welcome,” he said, with a shit eating smile. 

Wade swore. 

He peed both the Nile and the Ganges out of his system before the night was over. 

“Is it possible to erode your dick from the inside?” he asked google hoarsely at 3 am. The only thing it had to offer was various articles on “What Not to Do With your Dick” which only told him things he already knew and in no way answered his question. 

“Don’t be so dramatic Dad,” Peter muttered into his pillow.

The next morning he wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and thank god that the peeing had finally, FINALLY stopped, but they had to be in New York in two days, and they were still a good 8 hours away. 

So they had cold pizza for breakfast and hit the road by 10 am, despite Peter’s complaints. Wade wanted to push and get to Philly as soon as possible and maybe do a bit of shopping. He was sick of the sweats. 

New York was going to be a fresh start. No more Deadpool. Just Wade. And Peter. 

The house would have an oven he could bake brownies and casseroles in. Maybe he’d get one of those kitchenaid mixers that his ma had always wanted. A big bed with soft sheets and those super soft towels that he’d had that one time in Ontario- he’d written the brand name down in a notebook somewhere. He could get like 20 of them. 

Oh- and washing machine so he’d NEVER have to go to a laundromat ever again. 

Two days. Well. A day and a half. And it’d be HIS. 

{And Peter’s.} 

Of course. And they’d sleep late on Saturdays and spend Sundays at the gun range. He’d buy a box set of all the Golden Girls and watch it whenever he wanted. 

[Jesus Christ that sounds boring as fuck.] White complained. 

Wade sighed. Boring? Maybe. But he was just... tired. He’d been tired for a while now. It was time to rest. 

He shoved the last duffel into the back of the Jeep.

“Ready to go baby?” 

“Yep,” Peter said groggily from the front seat. 

“Then let’s get going.” 

Wade drove off and headed for the nearest north bound highway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh. Very nigh. Chapter 65 will be the last chapter. The chapter after that will be a sneak peak of Book Two, which I am currently writing. So don’t despair! More goodness and fluff are in the works! 
> 
> And in the spirit of fun, I actually did google “Can you erode your dick from the inside?” and got a very fun #1 result of “Stuff not to do with your penis.” So, thanks google for giving me giggle worthy results for me to include in my story!


	65. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your snacks and a drink and get comfy. This chapter is the longest one in the book, logging in well over 20 pages in my google docs.

Peter dozed in the car until Wade turned on some sort of Country on the radio.

He blinked blurrily and shifted more upright in his seat. “Wat?” he managed. 

“I found my Ipod last night baby. I told you we’d listen to some Dolly Parton, remember?” 

Peter blinked again. His brain was so not on right now. 

“What?” 

“Dolly Parton baby. I have like every single one of her songs! Just lay back and enjoy it.” 

Peter groaned, and buried his face in arm in the car door. Whoever this Dolly was she probably only had one or two albums or something. It would end eventually. Right? 

It did not end. Wade sang along in a fairly okay voice to the undeniably country songs while Peter suffered. 

“What is  _ happening _ ?” Peter demanded nearly two hours later. “How many songs can one person  _ sing _ ?” 

Wade smirked. 

(She has done over 100 songs, Peter.) Kara supplied helpfully. 

“What the fuck? 100?”

Wade laughed. “Oh baby. It’s more like 800.” 

“800? What THE FUCK Dad!” Peter got up and pawed around the dashboard looking for the Ipod. “No!” 

Wade laughed harder. 

Peter found the thing attached to the cord going into the dashboard. He guessed it was the Ipod in question. He frowned at the world’s tiniest screen and poked at it. 

Nothing happened. The woman started singing about another girl called “Jolene” or something. 

Peter tried again. 

Wade was snickering from the driver’s seat. 

“What the fuck IS this?” Peter demanded, as he prodded the screen to avail. 

“You gotta use the click wheel baby.” 

“The what?” 

Wade snickered harder. Peter glared at him. “Kara?”

(I’m working on it. There are many models of Ipods. This appears to be an older one.)

“Oh my god, even Kara can’t work this thing!” Peter complained. 

“Maybe you should bash some rocks together next to it, since it’s so ancient,” Wade snarked. 

“Don’t make me start singing old man,” Peter threatened. “No one wants that.” 

Wade snorted. “Bring it on, baby boy,” he said mockingly. “There’s no wrong way to sing with Dolly.” 

Peter glared at him, and belted out “Jolene!” with all the finesse of a newborn calf trying to do ballet. 

Wade instantly winced and recoiled. “What?” 

“Don’t take my man!” Peter keened like a dying whale mating with a hyena on a waterbed.

“Oh god... no! NO!” 

“JOLENE! JOLENE!” Peter honked out louder. He was tone deaf and couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and was not above weaponizing it. 

“Give me that Ipod!” Wade sputtered and reached for the Ipod. 

“Nuh oh. PLEAse don’t take my MAN!” Peter wailed. “He’s all I got!” he improvised, holding on a particular sour note for way too long. 

Wade lunged for it, and Peter gave it up, laughing. 

Wade groused and nimbly turned the country music off. The weirdest rap replaced it. 

“What is it now?” Peter asked with a wrinkled nose. Since when did rappers use pianos? 

“Hamilton soundtrack,” Wade said. 

“What?”

“It’s a play on Broadway. I’ve been meaning to go see it for a while now,” Wade said. 

Peter listened to the lyrics. “Bastard?” he offered, confused. 

“It’s about an old white dude who was in the revolutionary war,” Wade said. 

“Hmm,” Peter said. 

“We should go see it,” Wade said. 

“Sure,” Peter said, and relaxed back against the seat while he listened to the music. 

This Burr guy had some good ideas. 

By the end of it, Peter was intrigued, but not impressed. “Jesus christ,” he muttered. “How hard is it to keep your dick in your pants?”

Wade snickered, “You’d be surprised baby. Some girls are just on a whole ‘nother level. Like Bernadette Peters. Now THAT is a fox,” Wade said and whistled. 

Peter frowned. “Kara?” 

A woman with red ringlets for hair piled high and held in place with a bow bigger than her head appeared in a corner of his vision. She had blood red lipstick, and was wearing some sort of teal dress with poofy sleeves. 

He stared. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “How much conditioner does she USE?” he asked, somewhat horrified. 

Wade barked a laugh. “She brought up a picture on your phone that fast, baby?” 

Peter shrugged. “Don’t need a phone. She just shows it to me in my head.” 

Wade gave him a sharp look. “She show you stuff often sweet pea?” 

Peter shrugged. “Sometimes we watch youtube together. It’s nice.” 

Wade frowned. “You get youtube... in your head?” he asked, sounding strained. 

“Yeah.” 

“How the fuck does that work?” 

Peter shrugged. “Kara, how do we get youtube?” 

(Wifi and cell towers.)

“She says wifi and cell towers.” 

Wade made an “huh” face, and said “Fair enough I guess.” 

They stopped at Taco Bell for lunch. The next two hours were spent with Peter mastering the click wheel and picking songs at random from Wade’s Ipod. 

They hit Philadelphia at 4 and collapsed somewhere in a Radisson. 

“Don’t get too comfy baby,” Wade said as Peter sprawled on the bed. 

“Wha?” Peter said, face first in a mattress. As hotel mattress go, he was going to give this one a solid 2 and a half stars. Not awful. But not great either. 

“We’re going shopping.”

Peter groaned. “I don’t need any more clothes Dad,” he whined. 

“No, but I do.” 

Peter bolted upright, eyes wide. “You? Wearing something other than the sweats?” 

“Yeah- I thought I might get some jeans and shirts-”

“I have the car keys let’s go,” Peter demanded, and dragged a laughing Wade out the door of the hotel. 

The Philadelphia Mills was the closest mall that also had a Levi’s store. 

Peter stood outside the Levi’s, and snorted. “Is there a law about Bath and Body Works or something?” he asked incredulously. There was one literally next door to the Levi’s store.

“Yep. I think I saw a mall once that had two of them. One at each end.” 

Peter snorted again, and dragged an amused Wade inside. 

“Babe, you’re gonna tear my arm off,” he complained good naturedly. 

“Hurry up and put on some actual pants,” Peter argued. 

Wade rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be dragged to the jeans. 

“I’m a 32x34 by the way,” he said, as Peter started pawing through the jeans. 

“You want dark or light?” 

Wade sighs, clearly already regretting his life choices. Peter ignored him and grabbed some dark wash jeans that should fit and gave them to Wade, who took them like Peter had just shoved a live bomb at him. 

“Go on. Try them on,” Peter insisted. 

“This might not be the best idea...” Wade complained. 

“Nope,” Peter said. “We are here and we’re not leaving without pants.” 

Wade cursed, and headed for the dressing room. Peter watched him go, frowning in thought, and looked at the light wash jeans he still had in his hands. A thought tried to come to him, but failed. 

(I don’t think his thighs are going to fit these.) Kara said, giving voice to the thought Peter had been struggling to put together. 

“Hmmm...” Peter said. He looked at the signs in the store. “Maybe... if we go a size up?” 

(Better make it 2. And I think the different names means they’re cut differently.) 

Peter grabbed a handful of options before heading over to the fitting rooms. 

He didn’t even need to look for him, he just followed the deep sighs and under the breath cursing. 

“Do they fit?” Peter asked. 

Wade’s answer was a string of curses.

Peter selected another pair from his pile, and tossed it over the top of the door. “Try these.” 

There was shuffling and the sound of fabric moving around. Wade choked. “A 36? I am NOT that fat-”

“Your thighs are,” Peter said calmly, and he could feel Wade rolling his eyes even behind the closed door.

“My thighs are not  _ fat _ ,” Wade protested. “They are thicc and juicy as hell,” he grumbled. 

“Try on the bigger jeans Dad,” Peter sighed. 

More rustling, less cursing. After a moment Peter’s neck tingled and he stepped back just in time to avoid being brained by the stall door, and a distressed Wade stormed out. 

“Ugh,” he complained, picking at the handfuls of extra fabric at his waist, and turned, trying to get a look at his own butt while pointedly ignoring the giant mirrors in both the room and the end of the hallway. 

“Now I’m swimming in them like a fat white girl in ranch dressing at a buffet,” he complained. 

Peter dug through his pile. 

“Size in between, different cut,” he said, and shoved the pair at Wade. 

“Ugh, baby I don’t know- I might as well go get some more sweatpants from TJ Maxx or something-” Wade whined. 

“Put on the jeans Dad.” 

“I just... I don’t see the point baby. Let’s face it, I’m more a sweat suit guy-”

“Dad,” Peter touched his arm. “It’s just jeans. No one’s gonna care that you don’t have an ass. Just eat more pie and skip a couple of leg days or something, and the jeans will fit just fine.”

Wade stared at him for a long moment, as his face flashed through a number of emotions faster than Peter could name them. Eventually he settled on over exaggerated horror. “Did you... did you just say I don’t have an ASS?” he loudly stage whispered.

Peter gave him a blank stare, and worried for just a moment that he’d overstepped. “More pie. More squats. Less leg day,” the words came out whether he wanted them to or not. 

“Jesus Christ, since when did you get  _ claws _ baby?” Wade complained, and retreated back into the dressing room. “That was like... a straight to the jugular level diss.” 

Peter snorted, and breathed a sigh of relief. Wade had broken out the extra-dramatic sass, but wasn’t cursing which meant he was uncomfortable but wasn’t angry. 

(Maybe he doesn’t like the store?) Kara suggested. 

Peter sighed. “I don’t know Kara,” he sighed, and tried not to jump when Wade slammed the dressing room door closed. He’d been shocked when Wade had said that he was interested in shopping, and had rushed him out the door before the larger man could change his mind. Wearing sweats in June or July or whatever the hell month it was now attracted more attention than his scars did. 

Plus, if Peter could get him into jeans and maybe a shirt that actually fit him, Wade would be just as hot, if not hotter than when he wore that leather suit. 

Without even her even saying anything, he could FEEL Kara judging him. “What?” he hissed. “I want him to look nice okay?” 

Wade came out again, wearing the new jeans. “I don’t want to be  _ nice _ ,” Wade whined. “Nice is a priest who has too many altar boys. It’s suspicious and creepy.” 

Peter felt he was missing the joke there somehow. What the fuck even was an altar boy? 

“At least they  _ get _ altar boys,” he shot back with false confidence. Maybe it was a porn thing or something. 

Wade froze, then turned and gave him a Look. 

Peter frowned and shrugged. “What?” 

Wade stared at him for a minute. “New rule: you are not allowed within 200 feet of any catholic church,” he said seriously. 

Peter blinked. “What- why?” he demanded, beyond confused. 

“For the sake of my sanity,” Wade said. “You are just too adorable and innocent for your own good.” 

“Fuck you, I’m  _ not _ adorable,” Peter snarled, genuinely offended.

Wade beamed down at him like he was a baby kitten. Peter scowled at him. 

“Of course pumpkin,” he cooed.

“I shoot people in the  _ dick _ , Dad. I am NOT adorable,” Peter protested. 

Wade made a show of considering it. “Nope. Still cute,” he said, quickly squeezing Peter into a hug that left the teenager sputtering.

“Dad!” Peter complained, squirming. 

Wade kissed the top of Peter’s head, then squeezed the boy hard enough to make him squawk, and dropped him. 

Peter landed on his feet and smacked Wade’s arm. “I will  _ stab _ you in your sleep!” he hissed. 

“I love you too baby,” Wade cooed. “Now let’s go get some more of these jeans.” 

Peter most definitely did NOT sulk as Wade bought 4 pairs of jeans, and wore one out of the store. He did, however, scowl intimidatingly at Wade’s back while the larger man examined a directory sign. 

“The Macy’s is to the east,” Peter said after several long seconds. 

Wade turned to frown at him. “What?”

“What?” Peter parroted.

“Why the hell would we go to Macy’s?”

Peter stared at Wade like he had grown an extra head. “To get shirts,” he said, as if it was obvious. 

Wade made a strangled noise. “Fuck Macy’s with a cactus. I don’t wear anything from a freaking Macy’s,” he huffed.

“Why not? It’s where Aunt May got Uncle Ben all his shirts.” 

Wade rolled his eyes. “I don’t wear button downs no matter what the freaking movies say.” 

Peter blinked at Wade. “What?” he asked, baffled. 

“We’re going here,” Wade said, stabbing the directory with a finger. Peter looked at the finger, and the little “you are here” sticker. They were on opposite sides of the map. He deflated a little. 

“Daad,” he whined. The Macy’s, by contrast, he could SEE just at the end of giant mall concourse. “What’s even there?” he asked, trying his best to find store #456 in the list organized by categories like “Apparel” and then in alphabetical order, and gave up after 2 seconds in irritation. 

Wade snorted a smile. “Stop whining, babe. The shirts were your idea to begin with,” he teased, lying. 

Peter scowled, but didn’t argue. Instead he had to hustle as Wade’s long legs took one stride for every two of Peter’s. 

They passed an Auntie Anne's, a Journey’s, and Victoria's Secret before Wade stopped. 

Peter looked around, “What-” he managed, before Wade walked into... a Huey’s Hawaiian Emporium? 

Peter stared at the displays behind the big glass windows. Hawaiian shirts. In a variety of garish prints and colors. He felt the color drain out of his face. 

“No no no no no,” he said, and followed Wade into the store. 

“Dad-” he begged, as Wade picked out some sort of polyester blue flame monstrosity. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. 

“Nope. I said I was going to live the rest of my life in the ugliest Hawaiian shirts known to man, so that’s what I’m doing.” 

Peter stared in horror at the shirt. “I don’t think that’s even Hawaiian, Dad,” he said faintly. “Do Hawaiian shirts have flames on them?” 

Wade considered the shirt. “Probably not,” he agreed, and tucked it under an armpit. Like he was going to keep and maybe buy it. 

Was it possible to die from embarrassment? He followed Wade around the shop, shifting anxiously and making various “I’m dying right now” whining noises. 

“Here,” Wade said, and thrust a particularly obnoxious red shirt at Peter. Peter took it like it was a dead snake, and examined it. It had gold flames and a giant tiger in some sort of weird asian type pose on the back. And two giant tiger heads on the front, in case you somehow missed the point.

Peter winced. “Why do I have to hold it?” he whined. 

“Because it’s yours.” 

“WHAT?” 

“It’s what you get for whining,” Wade said. 

Peter scowled. “I’m not wearing the shirt, Dad,” he said flatly. 

Wade winked at him. “Sure thing sweet pea.” 

Peter sighed, but stopped whining, and instead opted for standing miserably with puppy dog eyes. “Please can we just go to Macy’s,” he said, very very nicely. “It doesn’t have to be a button down-” 

Wade ignored him. 

“How about Hot Topic? They have shirts with like, Mario on them,” Peter said desperately. Theta had liked Hot Topic. Apparently they had really good glow in the dark posters or something. “You  _ like _ Mario.” 

“I like Princess Peach,” Wade corrected mildly, and selected something with giant palm trees on it. 

Peter intensified the puppy dog eyes, and added a noticeable pout. 

Wade handed him another red shirt. This time it had dragons instead of tigers. 

Peter retreated to the store entrance before he could be handed anything else. 

Nearly an hour later, Wade had bought seemingly half the store and the two shirts Peter was holding. To celebrate Peter not dying of embarrassment, they ate at a Chili’s, then finished the night off by watching the Matrix on Peter’s laptop in bed at the hotel. 

“Bedtime baby boy,” Wade rumbled as he turned the laptop off. 

Peter squawked in protest. “But it’s only 10!” 

“We have to be out of here by 9:30 if we’re going to meet Karen in time to get the keys.” 

Peter groaned. 

“You can sleep in the car like you always do babe,” Wade said, and put the laptop on the nightstand. He settled down in the bed, and put out an arm. Peter curled up next to him, putting his back to Wade’s chest. 

Wade turned out the light, and didn’t pull him close, but instead just laid the arm over his waist. It wasn’t anything new. They’d done this every night for a while now. It was good having Wade so close. And Wade always took the side nearest the door, meaning anyone who came in would literally have to go through him first before they reached Peter. It was... nice. He didn’t even have to ask for it- Wade just did it automatically. 

Normally this was enough to send Peter to sleep. This feeling of being warm, and next to Wade. Of being... safe. Protected. 

But he couldn’t sleep. Something... something was off. He huffed and squirmed, trying a new position. But sleep eluded him. 

(Would you like some cat videos?) Kara offered. 

“Hmm...” 

And so she showed him cats. But it wasn’t enough. 3 am found him standing barefoot on the concrete in front of the hotel room, the door propped open with a shoe, and pistol tucked into the back of the waistband of his boxers. He stood watch over the empty parking lot. 

There was a woosh of moving air as the door opened, and he felt Wade tower behind him.

“Everything okay baby?” he asked. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that he was scanning the parking lot for threats. 

Off in the distance, a lone pigeon menaced a piece of a bagel under a parking lot light. 

“You ever smoke?” Peter asked. 

Wade shrugged. “Sometimes.” 

Peter could feel Wade’s gaze turn to him. “I’m not giving you cigarettes babe.”

Peter sighed. Cigarettes could be useful. It gave you an excuse to loiter outside and keep watch. They’d never given him cigarettes before though. Apparently kids smoking drew attention rather than deflect it. But the guys who did it seemed to enjoy it. 

He wondered if it was like vodka. 

Fuck, he could use some vodka. 

(Cigarettes are bad for you Peter. So is the vodka.)

Peter sighed again. Seemed like everything good was “bad for you.” 

They stood there for a minute. Watching the still parking lot. 

Wade kissed the top of Peter’s head. “Back to bed, sweetpea,” he said softly. 

Peter let him take the gun and guide him back to bed. This time Wade laid on his back, and Peter draped himself over the man like a bony blanket. It was soothing- he could listen to Wade’s heartbeat, slow and steady and loud to his senses instead of muffled like it was when he laid next to him. 

Wade ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. 

“The house is amazing sugar pop. You’ll like it, I promise,” Wade rumbled. 

“Hmm,” Peter said. He felt... off. Not quite anxious. Or scared. But... waiting. Like how he felt when he was in a van, being driven to a mission. Either everything would be fine, or it wouldn’t, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

So... he waited. He could wait. 

Wade combed his fingers through Peter’s hair until Wade fell asleep. Peter closed his eyes and watched cooking shows on youtube with Kara. 

They had granola bars as a breakfast snack in comfortable silence. Peter looked at cats on his phone. 

“Go take a shower babe. I’ll start packing up,” Wade said suddenly. 

Peter looked up from his phone and frowned at Wade. Normally Peter packed while Wade checked out. 

Wade looked back innocently. Too innocently. 

Peter looked around the room, but couldn’t find anything wrong. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I don’t know what you’re planning-”

Wade snorted. “I don’t need a reason to spoil my baby, do I?” he said. “Go take a nice shower. We’ve got time.” 

Peter checked the clock on his phone. It said 8:20. They had an hour and some change. He could, in theory, take a shower, wash his hair and still have time to put his hair up in some sort of bun or something. He’d been wearing the same old braid for what felt like ages now. A change would be nice. 

But the man was up to something, he could smell it. He studied Wade for a moment, considering, and then sighed. “Okay,” he said. Whatever it was, Peter couldn’t bring himself to care right that second. 

An hour later he emerged from the bathroom in clean boxers and his hair up in a simple french braid that had then been bobby pinned to death to wrap around his head. He was too tired to try to figure out a crown braid. A fake one would have to do. 

He stopped in his tracks. The red tiger “hawaiian” shirt was laid out on the bed, along with a pair of jeans and white undershirt. The room was otherwise suspiciously empty of their gear.

“Dad?” Peter called out cautiously. 

Wade popped his head in from the outside hallway. “Ready to go sweetpea?” 

“Where are my clothes?” 

“I laid them out for you, baby,” Wade said brightly. “The rest are all packed.” 

Peter stared at the clothes on the bed. The tiger heads, big as cabbages, silently mocked him. 

“Why?” he asked. God, he was tired. Why was he so tired? He could go without sleep for a couple of days and then go on a mission no trouble but one sleepless night in a bed and he was wiped? Gah. He was getting soft or something. 

“So we could match!” Wade said proudly, and stepped into the room. He was wearing a bright red shirt with little tigers all over it. 

Peter stared. And just... couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Okay,” he said, and went to get dressed. 

Wade watched him, frowning. “You okay sweet pea?” 

Peter shook his head. “Just tired,” he said. 

Wade hugged him tightly when he was done. “You’ll love the house baby. I promise,” he said softly into Peter’s hair. “If you don’t like it I’ll burn it down and get you a new one,” he said. 

Peter let himself lean against Wade. “Promise?” he asked quietly. 

“Pinkie swear,” Wade said, and they shook on it. 

They left the hotel parking lot at 9:30 on the dot. Wade drove north, and Peter felt that he could breathe a tiny bit easier. 

Peter tuned the radio to a random pop station and left it there. He layed back in his seat and gazed aimlessly out the window as scenery zoomed past. The sky was just the perfect shade of blue today, he decided. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d do when they lived in a house. His days up until now had been spent either in a car or camping, either in nature or in a hotel. What would it be like to have a room with windows and a desk he could draw at? Paint at? 

Maybe he wouldn’t like it. They’d be in New York City, if memories of past conversations were right. Maybe he could spend all day outside? Just... wander all day. That might be nice.

But that didn’t feel right either.

He closed his eyes and Kara showed him more cat videos. 

(You are very stressed right now Peter. You need to relax.) 

Peter ignored her. He wasn’t stressed. Why would be stressed? Wade was going to give him everything he’d ever wanted. How could he possibly be stressed about it? 

He opened his eyes when he felt the car slow down. Wade pulled off the larger street, and turned on his left turn signal to turn onto Metropolitan Avenue. Three blocks later, Wade turned right on Ascan. Another right onto Ingram, and then into a driveway. 

Peter stared at the house. It didn’t look that big, but it was 2 stories tall, with maybe an attic, if the angle of the roof meant anything. It was painted a pleasant faded daisy yellow with white trim. The fence wasn’t a white picket one, but a chest high chain link one. It seemed more to establish boundaries between the houses that were crammed next to it on either side than to keep anything out. The driveway vanished into the backyard, and led to a little shed in the back. 

The front yard was a tiny thing, but there was a little strip of bushes and flowers in front of the house, and a large tree that provided shade. 

It was... nice. 

“You like it baby?” Wade asked. 

“Can we go inside?” 

“Don’t have the keys yet. We’re a little early. Why don’t you go explore the backyard and I’ll wait for Karen out here.” 

Peter hesitated, and looked up and down the street. A little old lady was out in a floppy hat doing something with flowers a few doors down, and a man was walking a little dachshund on the sidewalk while staring at his phone. It seemed... normal. 

It was nice. Quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Peter dug a knife out of a duffle bag in the back and tucked it into his waistband. Wade watched him with a frown. 

“This is a nice neighborhood baby. You don’t need that,” Wade said carefully. 

Peter shrugged. “I dunno. I just...” he trailed off, still studying the houses. 

“First thing we get will be a security system,” Wade said. “I checked and we get within the hour deliveries from Amazon here.” 

Peter nodded. 

“I’ll get you a concealed carry holster to,” Wade said. 

Peter took a breath. “That’d be good,” Peter said. 

“Hey,” Wade said, and Peter looked at him. “Whatever you need to feel safe baby,” he said seriously. “And I’m here too.”

Peter winced. “I know. I just... feel off.” 

“Kara said you’re due for another hibernation soon,” Wade said, and put a hand against Peter’s face to get a better look at him. “Do you think that’s it?”

“Maybe,” Peter said. “Kara?” 

(You are stressed but otherwise everything’s under control.) 

“She says I’m fine,” he said. 

“Hmm. I think there’s a porch swing back there. Why don’t you go sit in the sun for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Peter said.

Wade kissed his forehead and Peter climbed out of the car and headed for the backyard. It was a short walk. The backyard was a little bigger than the front but instead of grass there was a small patio and a large patio swing surrounded by flowers. 

He wondered how long the flowers would last before they died. He’d never taken care of flowers before. And now there were flowers in both the front and the backyard. Maybe Wade knew how? Somehow he doubted it. 

(Do you want me to look it up for you?) Kara asked. 

The bushes and the tree could probably live without much help. 

“Hmm. Maybe,” Peter said. Decisions were for another day. That wasn’t today. Maybe next week? 

He sat on the swing, and pushed himself with his toes. The swing gave a horrifically loud squeaking noise. He wrinkled his nose with distaste, and stopped the swing before his eardrums started bleeding. 

He sat there, and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. 

He was just starting to really really wish for a giant handle of gut rot vodka, when a voice called out.

“Hey there tiger,” it said. It was playful and most definitely female. 

Peter snapped out of his thousand yard stare to look up at the fence line. 

A redhead teenage girl in a black tank top and jean shorts that were so short that they were probably illegal in at least one state leaned lightly against the top of the chain link fence, her smile lighting up her face, and the sun lighting up the rest of her. 

Peter blinked and damn near felt his brain short out. She was curvy in all the right places and jesus fuck her legs went on for ages... 

Peter blinked again and struggled to keep his eyes on her face because while dear god, that tank top and what was under it was doing wonderful awful things to his brain right now, he wasn’t a god damned neanderthal- 

“Hey,” he managed. He only sounded somewhat strangled. 

_ Smooth. Real smooth there Peter.  _

Did she just- yes! She’d totally just  _ smirked _ at him- she knew EXACTLY what her fucking short shorts were doing to him... 

(Whatever the hell is going on needs to stop.) Kara said urgently. (Your hormones are spiking all over the place-)

Peter ignored her. 

“You know the Smiths?” the redheaded goddess in definitely-should-be-banned short shorts asked casually. 

Peter frowned for just a moment. “No?” 

“Because you’re in their backyard,” she said pointedly.

_ Ooooooo..... This girly had claws...  _

Peter snorted a laugh, and flashed a grin at her. “My Dad’s signing the papers to buy the house,” he said. “So technically it’s  _ my _ backyard,” he sassed back. 

She considered this. “I didn’t see a moving van out front,” she said. 

Peter shrugged. “Don’t need one. We travel light,” he said. 

“Where you from tiger?”

_ Why the fuck was she calling him tiger?  _

“All over,” he shrugged. 

“Your dad military?” she asked. 

Peter frowned at her for a moment. How the fuck did she guess that? “Used to be,” he said cautiously. 

She shrugged. “Figured you for an army brat. Only army brats have such terrible taste in clothes,” she said, with that damn smirk of hers again. 

Peter frowned harder, and glanced down. 

Jesus fuck, he’d forgotten about the damn tiger shirt. He sighed. “My dad bought it,” he said wearily.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing it,” she teased. 

A game. She was playing a  _ game _ with him, he realized. He tilted his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. Curvy- fuck yes. Distracting clothing- check. Amazing red hair that went past her shoulders and was just begging to be braided- double check. But she also had a glint in her eyes that spoke of cleverness, and smile that promised trouble. And did he mention the legs? Because there were MILES of them, jesus christ... 

Whatever game this was, sign him the fuck up. 

He plastered a smile on his face, and got up and walked over until he was just ever so slightly too close to her. She was taller than him by at least 2 inches which was mildly irritating for reasons he couldn’t exactly name. 

“What’s your name sweetheart?” he asked. 

She burst into laughter, but he managed to keep the smile while something inside him died a little. Maybe he wasn’t playing right? 

“Are you serious right now?” she demanded. 

Peter shrugged. “Maybe?” he said hopefully. 

“You are just ridiculous, you know that? Is your hair seriously  _ braided _ ?” 

“Are your shorts illegal?” he said without thinking. 

She blinked. “What?” 

“I thought we were asking stupid obvious questions,” he said, doubling down.

She gaped at him for a moment, and then looked down at her shorts as if seeing them for the first time. He joined her in looking, and when he looked up again, found that she’d caught him ogling. He hadn’t meant to ogle, let alone be caught doing it. For a split second he floundered. 

_ What would Wade do? _

Wade would be awesome at this game. 

So he grinned shamelessly at her, and waggled his eyebrows like an old school cartoon character. 

Her blush was a pretty as a sunrise, and was almost as red as her hair. The almost too small tank top that clung to her curves also had a somewhat low cut front that let him see that the blush went almost to her cleavage. 

_ YES. _

Oh, he _ liked _ this game. 

(Peter!) Kara protested. (If you keep this up, you’re going to trigger another hibernation!) 

Peter ignored her. How could a simple game trigger a hibernation? She was clearly being ridiculous. And that weird feeling pooling in his gut? He’d had worse. Much worse. Besides- he wanted this. Whatever this was, anyway. He wanted more of it. 

He leaned a couple of millimeters closer. Not nearly close enough to touch, but definitely invading her personal space now. 

“Still haven’t gotten a name baby girl,” he cooed.

“And why would I tell  _ you _ that?” 

Peter considered. “Because you’re a merciful goddess?” he said hopefully. 

She stared, then dissolved into laughter. 

“Oh, I’m a goddess, am I?” she giggled, and she smiled like she was truly happy. 

He smiled back. “Fuck yeah you are,” he said. 

Somewhere to his left, a door slammed open. “MARY JANE WATSON!” a woman screamed out at full volume. Whoever she was, she was  _ pissed _ . 

Mary Jane didn’t even blink. She just turned to the house and screamed “WHAT?!” 

Peter stared. If he didn’t spend so much time around Wade, he would have broken his neck from the emotional whiplash. 

“How long does it take to take out the trash? You still need to clean the bathroom and-” the woman complained.

“I’ll do it in a minute!” she roared back, completely unphased. 

_ Jesus Christ.  _ That had just pulled a lever he didn’t even know he had until just now.

“I asked you to do it this morning-” the woman inside continued, apparently determined to be unreasonable and to piss off Mary Jane as much as possible.

“And I said I’d do it! It’s not even one o'clock yet! Get off my back!” 

The woman inside burst into tears, and slammed the door shut. 

What had that line been from Archer?  _ “Please stop- I can only get so erect”?  _

Speaking of which... he leaned a bit more and shifted slightly. 

_ A little help here Kara... _

(I could take care of it if you weren’t setting everything else on fire.) Kara snapped. (I’m BUSY.) 

The girl turned, saw him standing there looking like someone had hit him upside the head with a 2x4, and blushed again. It didn’t go down nearly as far as it had earlier. “Sorry,” she said apologetically. “That was my sister. She’s gotten... weird ever since she got pregnant,” she said, and gave an awkward smile. 

“So you’re Mary Jane, huh?” he said, hanging onto the important details. 

She winced harder. “Still think I’m a goddess, tiger?” 

“It’s Peter, and everyone knows that the battle goddesses are the hottest,” he said matter of factly. 

She snorted a laugh. “Stop!” she said, and swatted his arm playfully. “You are just awful,” she said, giggling. 

He grinned, while the door to the backyard slammed open again. 

“Mary Jane? Did you just make your sister cry again?” A different woman this time called out, more exasperated than angry. 

Peter waited for the roar- but Mary Jane just pressed her lips together and tensed before taking a breath. 

“She’s being ridiculous, Mom,” she complained, turning towards the door. “She won’t get off my back! I told her I’d clean the bathroom before I left for the pool and that’s not for another hour-” 

“MJ, you KNOW your sister is on bed rest, you can’t just rile her up like this-” 

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. 

“Now get in here before you sunburn!” 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

The door slammed shut. 

“Sorry. I gotta... I gotta go,” she said awkwardly. 

Peter shrugged. “It’s fine. Not like I won’t see you again,” he joked. 

She gave him a small smile, and started back towards the house. 

“I hate that you have to leave, but I love to watch you go baby girl!” he shouted with a grin for no good reason at all as she climbed the two steps up to her house, revealing an awesome ass to go with her legs. 

She flipped him off without even looking behind her. But the extra wiggle of her hips she gave as she went up the last step told him she wasn’t being serious about it. 

“ _Goddamn..._.” Peter muttered when the door to the house slammed shut behind her. 

(If you’re done trying to mate that poor girl, you need to find Wade NOW.) Kara bitched. (You set off a Molotov cocktail of hormones in your brain just now and you’ve got two minutes max before you pass out on the floor.) 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he complained and stood up off the fence. 

_ Whoa.  _

The world spun ever so gently. 

(Uh huh. Wade. Now.) Kara said firmly. 

Peter gritted his teeth and headed back to the front of the house. His feet felt like lead. 

_ You can do this Peter _ , he thought.  _ You once walked 3 miles with a bullet in your leg. Just walk to the front of the house.  _

He made it, but Wade wasn’t there. 

_ Shit shit shit.  _

“DAD?” he called. 

“In here sweet pea!” Wade called. The door to the front of the house was open, but the screen door was closed. 

It took ages for him to get his fingers to work properly to hold the door handle on the stupid screen door. He stumbled inside and wound up on his knees on some sort of wood flooring. It was hard to tell because his vision was blurring already. 

“Baby?” Wade was next to him. 

“Kar... Kara says... hiber- hybernating...” he slurred. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic. I got you,” Wade said, and helped him lay down on the floor. 

“Is everything okay?” somewhere a woman asked.

“He’s fine. Just a medical thing,” Wade said quickly. “Nothing serious. He just... sleeps.” 

Peter blinked owlishly as something soft, maybe a shirt? Was shoved under his head. 

(Well, I hope you’re happy now.) Kara said. (Now we’re going to be stuck hibernating on a wood floor and no bed because  _ you _ were being ridiculous.) 

Peter remembered those legs going up the stairs. 

_ Worth it.  _ He thought. 

Then there was darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Puberty just hit Peter right in the face with a brick called “Girls Exist” so hard that he blue screened. But that’s not the theme of this work, so you’ll have to join me later in Book Two: Taking Names (The unofficial title is Peter Wilson: the Harem Anime). There’s going to be baking, a last minute trip to Canada and Peter Trying to Be Normal TM. 
> 
> Also, in case you didn’t know, 20 Ingram street is Peter Parker’s address from the comics in the 70’s (or so google tells me). So both literally and metaphorically, he’s home now, right where he’s supposed to be/should have been all along. Welcome Home Peter! (If Disney can't bring you home, at least I can!) 
> 
> Next Week: A sneak peak of a bit from Chapter One of Taking Names! 
> 
> Also a thousand thanks to my readers and to those who left comments! Ya'll gave me the creative fuel to finish this!


	66. Sneak Peak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I started writing Taking Names and then got sidetracked by my "The Trouble with Being a Unicorn" work that was supposed to be like a 5 chapter "palette cleanser" but now looks like it's going to be 15 or so. 
> 
> What does that mean for Taking Names? It might be a month or two so before I can really get to it. I've got a plot all lined up for it and everything. I just need to carve out the time to write it. *sighs* 
> 
> In the meantime, have a little bit of my rough first draft of the first chapter of Taking Names.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the blonde that he guessed was Gwen said, clearly out of patience. “We need a favor.” 

Peter frowned at the girls, considering them. The girls were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. None of them were obviously injured. But the brunette... her eyes were red as if she’d been crying. 

“A favor?” he said cautiously. 

“It’s a big favor,” the brunette said. 

“No it’s not!” Gwen insisted. “And MJ, you’re supposed to be the one asking-” 

Peter’s eyes snapped to Mary Jane. She looked stressed. He got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Three distressed girls on his doorstep asking for a favor? 

“Do I need to break someone’s kneecaps baby girl?” he asked seriously. 

“What?” MJ’s eyes flew open in shock. “Oh my god, no! No!” 

“We need to borrow your kitchenaid!” Gwen said loudly, alarmed. 

“My... kitchenaid?” Peter asked, puzzled. 

“We need to make like 200 cookies before tomorrow,” Betty said miserably. 

“It’s more like 300,” Gwen said. 

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” 

“We’re having a bake sale for new cheerleader uniforms tomorrow,” Gwen said. 

“And you’re going to bake them... at MJ’s house?” Peter asked incredulously. “In your momma’s old oven?” 

MJ huffed. “We have to. We were going to do it at Rose’s house but her grandma died so she’s in Iowa-” 

“And my folks are out of town and I’m staying with Gwen-” Betty said.

“And my dad won’t let me bake unsupervised after the ‘Cupcake Incident’,” Gwen said, exasperated, rolling her eyes. “And Dad’s working super late, so we can’t do it at  _ my _ house, and the other girls are making brownies and actual cakes-”

“So... can we borrow your kitchenaid Peter?” MJ asked hopefully. 

Peter stared at the girls. “Your sister is going to have a cow, baby girl,” he said to MJ. “An actual live baby cow. 300 cookies? You’re going to just wreck her kitchen-” 

“Yeah, well, she’s just going to have to suck it up!” MJ said stubbornly. “It’s an emergency! And it’s not like I don’t know how to clean a kitchen!” 

Peter sighed, and rubbed his face tiredly. 

“Okay. So... here’s what’s going to happen. You girls are going to go get your flour and your eggs and aprons and stuff, and you’re gonna bring it over here. And then you’re gonna use my ovens and kitchen and all that, alright?”

They stared at him. “Wait... did you say ‘ovens’?” Gwen said. “As in... more than one?” 

“Yep. I got two double ovens, all brand new,” 

“Deal,” Gwen said, and started to drag a sputtering Betty towards MJ’s house. 


End file.
